


The Wizard and the Dragon Prince

by Poopshanks



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Animal Transformation, Bishounen, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Comedy, Companionable Snark, Curses, Forced Bonding, Illustrations, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kitsune, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Necromancy, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Past Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Work In Progress, Wuxia, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:05:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 21,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poopshanks/pseuds/Poopshanks
Summary: Nothing concerns Shao beyond his cut of the profits, much less the fate of the Four Kingdoms. That is, until a mysterious sorcerer arrives in town, demanding his hand in marriage.





	1. Magic and Money | Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, friends! This is my first time posting on Ao3 (though I am an avid browser). This work isn't fanfiction so I don't expect it to get many reads, but if you're reading this note, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this silly little story.

Shao's nose twitched. There it was. That unmistakable sensation. That faint pulse of electricity that made the hairs on his arms stand straight up.

Magic.

He perched on a pillar overlooking one of the residential streets of Borderlow. It was too late for anyone of a respectable profession to be up——not counting him and his less-than-respectable associates, that is. At the end of the street was their destination: the residence of a Southern magistrate, who just so happened to have left for the Imperial City for state business. Not only that, but that magistrate just so happened to be an avid collector of the enchanted and ethereal.

There was money to be made from the ruins of the Old World. Centuries ago, all a man had to do to cure his cough was take a walk down to the forest spirits and ask nicely for some glowing tea leaves; his cough would vanish, his hair would grow back, _and_ he’d gain the virility of a stallion. But there were no forest spirits anymore. Not _any_ spirits. The closest thing to them were the witches and wizards up on Moonbridge, but they couldn’t be bothered with what happened outside their mountain. That man's wife would remain unsatisfied, the last strands of his hair would fall out, and his cough would turn to pneumonia.

The spirits were gone, but remnants remained. Something that once was limitless was now finite; that meant demand was higher than ever. It was no wonder the wealthy took to collecting. What's shinier than a gold coin? A magic gold coin——one that could divine the weather.

The Jo Clan knew this, and so they switched from common racketeering and loan-sharking to magic-peddling. And Shao had a knack for sniffing out gold coins that could tell the weather. It was a perfect fit.

Shao could smell it. That mansion was a buffet of magical artifacts. For him, more magic meant more finder's fees. More finder's fees meant more gold. And more gold meant more food.

"Hey, mutt," one of the Jo goons said to him. "You ready, yet?"

Shao made a face at the distraction from the mountain of chicken wings he was imagining. _Oh, right_ , he thought. _The job_.

Shao leapt down from the pillar, landing as light as a feather. He followed the Jos as they strolled down the street, knocked over the fence, and broke down the front door.

His finger twitched. An enchantment was set up on the door; it was gone now. _Ah_ , he thought. _Must have been an alarm_. It wouldn't matter anyway. The poor old magistrate couldn't get back to Borderlow in time even if he had a dragon.

Now that the goons had successfully made their entrance, they gawked at Shao expectedly. He let out a big sigh and stretched his arms out.

"Incense burner by the window," he said, rapidfire pointing. "That screen with the naked woman on it, the statue of the donkey on the mantle, fan on the wall, those scrolls on the top shelf over there. Yes, the red cupboard——you know what, just take the whole thing."

Shao couldn't decide between the gourmet beef from that butcher with the eyebrows or a new supply of cumin seeds for his spice collection. Both? Both.

"We're rich!" one of the Jo boys sang.

The one in charge nodded his head in agreement but decided to poop the party anyway. "Aye, but no sticky fingers or I'll cut 'em off!"

 _Uncle Jo sure is a greedy bastard_ , thought Shao.

He’d been under the care of Boss Jo and his four sons for a couple years now. Their clan had been running Borderlow in all but name for six generations. In years past, they stole from the rich and distributed the wealth among the poor of the city, protecting shops and dealers loyal to them. But Boss Jo was not his grandfathers. Anyone who filched from his profits? They’d be visiting the mermaids at the bottom of the Holy River. Shao expected nothing less from a man who actually licked his lips when he heard about the civil war.

Borderlow and the Southern Kingdom was far away from the conflict in the North. The only effects to be felt down here were the loftier taxes and an army conscript here and there. But Shao wasn’t stupid. He knew someone somewhere was getting disemboweled in the name of the Empire. He felt for them, but what could he do? His martial arts were passable at best and he fainted at the sight of blood. So he stuck to pilfering the homes of Imperial officials.

As he wandered into the bedroom, a strong current of energy stung the back of Shao's neck. He wheeled around. There, on the wall. A pendant?

It was small, and not the shiniest thing in the room by any means. A golden medallion, hanging on beads of jade. At its center was an insignia. The more he looked at it, the more an uncanny sense of familiarity boiled in his gut. The insignia——a dragon, coiled in a circle. Where had he seen that before?

Without thinking, he reached out. As soon as his fingertips brushed the cold metal, he let out a sharp yelp. Pain. Burning? It was as if someone had slapped his shoulder with a hot poker.

Shao bit his lip to keep himself from screaming. The Jos heard him anyway. They would be coming to see what was wrong. Did he have an explanation? Of course not.

Hearing the thunderous footsteps of his associates approach, he glanced at the medallion on the wall. Then he thought to himself: _am I smart? Or am I curious?_

Shao snatched the medallion off of the wall and hid it up his sleeve.

Unbeknownst to him, this disturbance awoke two people from their sleep. The first: a Moonbridge sorcerer who, out of boredom, had once created an amulet to detect royal blood. And the second: Emperor Huadalga Sahaku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration of the beginning of this chapter:  
> http://fav.me/dcj266k


	2. Magic and Money | Part 2

The sun was already out by the time Shao made it back home. His head would have been buried in a pillow long by then if he hadn’t had to spend an hour and half fast-talking a gang leader. Uncle Jo’s “reasoning” behind halving his commision down to thirty coppers was, “We don’t need a hound to sniff out treasure in a room made of jewels.”

The medallion in his pocket weighed less and less.

Shao eventually convinced him to bump it up to forty-five coppers. It wasn’t as much as he was hoping for, but it was enough to pay off a couple debts and to fill his arms with groceries from the market.

Granny Oba was in the courtyard sweeping. She was _always_ sweeping. There wasn’t much an eighty-year-old landlady could do to fix such a rundown complex, so that’s what she did. She swept.

“Good morning, Granny,” Shao shouted. He had to or she wouldn’t hear him. He picked a basket out of his haul and handed it to her as he passed. The old landlady squinted her cloudy eyes at him with one hand on the broom and the other holding the basket of food. As soon as she saw the messy hair and the crooked smirk, she smiled her wrinkles flat. Shao waved goodbye and continued to his room on the far edge of the complex.

After opening the windows and breathing in the air of home, he clapped his hands and set to work on dinner. But it was morning, so was it breakfast? To him, it didn’t matter what time it was so long as he got to cook and eat good food. After cutting the chicken and veggies he simmered it all in a savory sauce, all the while peppering in a masterful blend of herbs and spices from his prized collection. A thousand civil wars could not part him from his precious spice kit. In separate pots he cooked the rice and brewed the tea, then brought it all together for the finished product.

By the time he was finished his stomach was howling like a beast. But since it was technically a new day, there was one last thing he had to do.

Shao scooted over to the center of the room, where a small table sat and lit a jar of incense there. He then placed a bowl of food and a cup of tea in front of the stone tablet in its center. Shao bowed his head and closed his eyes.

“Good morning, Dad.”

The sweet-smelling smoke curled as if in reply.

“So, story time. I passed by this basket-weaver on the way home.” Shao said as he gobbled up his hard-earned meal. “Boy, was she a beauty. Her fingers moved as gracefully as a musician’s. Long neck, skin like snow, and these eyes! You would have fallen in love at first sight.”

Shao scarfed down his second helping and let out a long yawn. He continued to recount the story as he laid his bed out.

“But get this: soon as I ask the guy next to me who she is, he socks me straight in the mouth——right here!” He tapped on a purple spot on his lip. “You see, I may have been using less-than-gentlemanly words when I described her. I was being smooth, striking up a rapport with the local guys. You know how I am. Well, telling him she was ‘a very climbable tree’ turned out to be a bad move. You see, the one who clocked me——that was her old man.”

The stone tablet did nothing, as inanimate objects are wont to do. Shao chose to interpret that nothing as something.

“Don’t be so harsh! I may have lost a chance at the love of my life, here!”

Shao let out a big sigh. He breathed in the pleasant cross-breeze and listened to the birds chirping. How long had he lived in Borderlow? Five years? It was definitely the longest he and his father had stayed in one place. He remembered fishing for giant turtle islands in the Eastern seas. He remembered being forced to practice his forms with his father out on the mountaintops of the Northern Kingdom. He wished now he paid more attention to the lesson than to how cold his butt was. Maybe then he wouldn’t get suckerpunched by old men for being stupid.

Eventually, Shao decided sleeping was infinitely better than thinking. But when he started to change clothes, the sliding fabric stung his shoulder. Confused, he looked at the inside of his undershirt. A brown stain. Blood? Suppressing his lightheadedness, he scooted to the mirror to get a look at his back.

“What the…?”

There on his shoulder, where a faint birthmark used to be, was a dark red scar in the shape of a dragon. The shape was instantly recognizable. He ripped the stolen medallion out of his jacket, then snapped back and forth between the insignia and the mark on his shoulder. Identical. But the pain in his shoulder was only hours ago. How had it already formed a scar?

Shao looked closer at the pendant in his hands. When he picked it up he swore the other side was blank. But now, shimmering in the reflective surface, was a series of strokes. They appeared to sparkle a faint violet light. The marks looked like a combination of characters, but he couldn’t read them. And if he was the least bit illiterate, then it was an insult to his late father’s teaching ability. So it must be magic.

Cursed? Well, he didn’t like blood and it made him bleed. Definitely cursed.

Without a second thought, he scrambled outside and hucked the thing into the bushes. If he was cursed, was he going to grow a tail? Would something shrink? He shivered and went back inside.

Despite the trauma, Shao managed to fall asleep quickly. It was a talent of his.

Out in the courtyard, Granny Oba resumed her vigil at the broom. As she shuffled her way over to Shao’s room, a muffled pop cracked the air. That, she didn’t hear. But she did see a man blink into existence under a tree. She dropped her broom.

The man was tall, clothed entirely in exquisite black robes that resembled the night sky. Silver hair billowed around him in the breeze as he assessed his surroundings with a straight face. So dazzling and handsome was that face that the landlady was convinced she had finally died.

The silver-haired man scanned the ground at his feet. The medallion laid there, surrounded by a smoking black ring of grass.

“Adaji. Fetch.”

His robes trembled at his voice. Out from his sleeve popped the head of a fox. The man pointed the sleeve at the medallion, and the fox leapt out. It used its nine fluffy tails to land in the burnt patch of grass. The nine-tailed fox took the jade beads in its teeth and hopped back onto its master. The man studied the trinket dangling from the mouth of the creature on his shoulder. After a moment of pensive silence, he traced its trajectory to the open window of Shao’s room.

“Ah, Mister Spirit,” croaked Granny Oba. The silver-haired man shifted his steely gaze. The old landlady shimmied forward without the support of her broom. “Are you here to take me to my husband?”

The stranger stared at her for a second.

“No,” he said. “Who lives in that room there?”

Granny Oba lifted her hand to her ear. The man’s voice had a powerful volume incongruous to its velvety tone, but it apparently wasn’t powerful enough to defeat the old lady’s deafness. He did not repeat himself. Instead, he drew a strange character in the air, then reached over with glowing fingers and brushed one of Granny Oba’s ears.

“Who lives in that room?” the sorcerer asked again.

“Oh, that one? That’s little Riyu Shao. He brought me cabbages. Such a good boy,” the landlady said. “Are you new in town, Mister Spirit?”

“Yes,” Mister Spirit said curtly. “Tell me more about Riyu Shao.”

“Eh? Well, he’s very helpful. He fixed the roof last week,” Granny Oba said. “He baked me some sesame cakes yesterday. They tasted just like my mother’s.” She let out a creaky sigh when she remembered it. “Such a good boy. And handsome too. I hope he finds a good wife soon.”

The magician listened, tapping his chin. “Where is he from?”

“Where?” Granny Oba frowned. “He came here with his father, Riyu Foh. Before that… I don’t know.”

The magician’s finger froze. “Riyu _Foh_?” he repeated.

The old lady nodded.

The man thought for a moment. Then his lips tapered off into a smirk. It was so groundbreaking, Granny Oba thought she died again.

“Thank you,” the magician said. Without another word, he whipped around and disappeared behind a tree.

The old landlady held her withered face in her hand, not sure what to do.

“Such a good boy….” 


	3. The Wizard from the Mountain | Part 1

He heard a lullaby. An untrained voice, and yet a soothing one. A woman with wine-red hair. But where her face was supposed to be, was a blank canvas. The faceless singer reached toward him. Another figure appeared behind her. It raised its something in its hand. Everything flashed. Red. A scream silenced the lullaby.

But Shao wouldn’t remember _that_ part of the nightmare.

He was transported to a stage, naked, with only a paper fan to shield himself from a captive audience. Beside him appeared the basket-weaver of dashed hopes. She hid her giggles with one hand and pointed at Shao’s rear end with the other. With dread, he glanced over his shoulder.

“No! How am I gonna fit through the door with these?!”

Huge stupid peacock feathers! Couldn’t it have been a pig’s tail or something, at least?

The woman’s laughter turned into an even louder, uglier sound. Her feminine poise evaporated. She grabbed her sides and doubled over, the whites of her eyes bulging and her mouth as wide as a human head. She pointed at the fan hiding Shao’s manhood. He looked and——oh no. There it was. The worst possible outcome.

His knees gave out. “What a cruel curse!” he shouted to the heavens.

Another sound drowned out the laughter of both the audience and the basket-weavess. Irregular. Thunderous. A lot like things being broken and men yelling at him.

“Wake up, mutt!”

_Thunk._

A whack on the head woke Shao from his nightmare. Hovering over him——a little too close——was the pockmarked face of Jo Baxia, Boss Jo’s fourthborn. Behind him, a gang of Jo goons ransacked Shao’s apartment.

Shao decided he would deal with this problem. But there is a certain order to things.

Baxia poked him in the ribs with one of his sausage fingers. “Where’s the——wait, what the fuck are you doing!?”

Shao stuffed both hands into his pants and felt around. He sighed, relieved. His baby boy was okay.

Baxia spat in disgust, then picked him up and threw him into the stove. As Shao reeled, he spotted one of the ransackers beside him. His heart pounded. In his hands——it couldn’t be! His precious spice kit!

Shao rolled off the stove, just in time to avoid another one of Baxia’s furniture-destroying punches. He flattened himself on the ground, then flipped. Shao’s foot kicked the wooden box in the goon’s hands. It slipped out, spinning through the air. Shao jumped on the counter, then launched. Catching the box, he landed in a crouch.

Baxia’s massive foot stomped through what was left of Riyu Foh’s shrine. Shao winced. “Sorry, Dad,” he muttered under his breath.

Baxia’s nostrils flared. Shao thought he looked like an enraged bull, more than an enraged bull. “Where’s the shit you filched, Riyu?” said Baxia.

Shao checked the state of his cumin. “Shit? Filch? Me? When?”

“Don’t get cute, dick-twiddler! One of the boys saw you take a necklace. Now where is it?”

Three of the men rushed him at once. He ducked under one swing, leapt over another. The third guy came at him with both hands up. Not knowing which direction to defend, Shao tossed his spice kit. Surprised, the attacker caught it; Shao used the distraction to deliver a spinning kick into his rib. He went down, and Shao snatched the box back.

Baxia yanked on the rug under his feet; the momentum sent Shao tumbling. His head dented the wall. Baxia grabbed him by the scruff of his pajamas. “I always knew we couldn’t trust a little weasel like you,” he growled, right before he tossed Shao straight through the open window.

Luckily, a bush dampened his velocity. He shook his head, sputtering. Searching around for the spices, Shao remarked on how horrible of a son he must have been to value herbs more than his ancestor’s shrine. Briefly. Pepper is expensive; Dad would understand.

“Ah hah!”

He found the box in a patch of dead grass, burned in a ring around the center. A medallion-shaped center. Traces of magic. Cursy traces of cursy magic. “I _knew_ it!”

A pair of shoes entered his view from the ground. Expensive-looking shoes. Before he could look up, he froze. His entire body broke out in goosebumps, and a cold tingling sweat. Whoever was in front of him _reeked_ of magic. That alone could not prepare him for what he saw when he looked up.

A long, graceful neck. Glowing snow white skin. And eyes… sharp, captivating eyes whose gaze pierced his very soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration of end of the chapter:  
> http://fav.me/dcj27gd


	4. The Wizard from the Mountain | Part 2

The silver-haired stranger made no move to help up Shao, who still had his face in the dirt. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said. His voice was deeper than the one Shao was expecting. _Much_ deeper. His thoughts were doing somersaults. _That’s a man!? There’s no way!_

“What a coincidence!” said the voice of Jo Baxia.  “So have I!”

Shao popped his head over the bushes just in time to see him and his three goons plow through a section of Granny Oba’s fence. Seeing that was even more irritating than getting thrown through a window.

Baxia stopped once he saw the silver-headed stranger. He seemed no less taken aback than Shao was. “Oi!” he said. “Who’re you? His accomplice?”

The tall man didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed and sifted through his sleeve for something, ignoring Baxia. Jo Baxia did _not_ like being ignored. The six-foot brute turned beet red and stomped toward him. Shao, not knowing whether to take the blow meant for this stranger or to run away, just stood there.

Just as Baxia crunched through the bushes, the silver-haired man removed his hand from his sleeve. He had pinched in between his fingers what looked like a seed. Shao’s nose twitched. A magic seed?

The stranger shot a glance at him and said, “Close your eyes,” before flicking the pellet at the ground in front of him. Shao, too entranced by direct eye-contact, did not close his eyes; both he and Baxia’s crew got the full blast of the shimmering cloud of smoke and noise that exploded from the pellet.

But the man was prepared for Shao’s inability to follow directions; not missing a beat, he grabbed his arm and ran down the street. The Jo gang coughed and grumbled behind them. Shao even heard one of them throw up. He too found himself coughing up a lung. As he couldn’t open his burning eyes, he could only entrust himself to his mysterious savior’s sense of direction.

By the time Shao managed to un-squint, they were somewhere completely different. But familiar. A room at the Twisted Noodle inn down by the river. Quite a mundane place to be whisked off to by a magician.

As a blushing attendant brought him a full bottle of wine, the silver-haired man stared Shao down from across the table. His eyes were so light in color they almost looked like they were glowing. So invasive was their gaze that Shao felt himself tense up. He hugged his precious spices a little closer to his chest.

“Who are you? Why are you looking for me?”

The stranger poured himself a cup of wine. “Tenma Jin,” he replied. “Magister at Lotus Tower of Moonbridge.” The wine went down in one gulp.

“Wait... _Moonbridge_ , Moonbridge?” said Shao. “As in the mountain full of all-powerful wizards, Moonbridge?”

“Yes,” said Tenma Jin. “I created this.” He took a familiar golden medallion out from his sleeve. Shao could almost see the dragon motif winking at his misfortune. The wizard set it on the table. “It’s a godborn scryer. You activated it,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna pretend to know what that means.”

Tenma didn’t bother explaining. “How long have you had your powers?”

“Powers?” Shao looked away. “What powers?”

“You have a sensitivity to magical and spiritual energy. You may also have an elemental immunity: to ice, for example,” said Tenma.

Shao surrendered. This guy was not buying his floppy lies for one second. “Well, I can smell magic. I work for——used to work for the Jo gang, those nice guys you just met, as their hunting dog. As for the second part… now that I think about it….”

One time, Shao picked up a pan from the stove barehanded. After the initial shock and panic, his father discovered that Shao was unhurt by the scalding metal. He then told him never to do it again. Later Shao found out that was not the normal way to cook eggs.

“Fire doesn’t burn me,” said Shao, “Dad gave me the impression that was not normal.”

Tenma listened, all the while tapping his finger against his chin. “That was ‘Riyu’ Foh, yes? Or more accurately: Ling Foh, former servant of the imperial family.” The wizard leaned back, drink in hand. Shao got the feeling he was no longer involved in the conversation. “Fire resistance. Interesting. Surubi, perhaps? Ling Foh could have been a descendant. She did reproduce with a human around the same time as Huadalga….”

Shao made a face. “Oi, what weird shit are you saying over there?”

The wizard finished his third cup and locked eyes with him. “Take off your clothes.”

“ _Fuck_ no!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What exactly should I be jumping to, then!?”

Tenma clicked his tongue impatiently. “Typical,” he spat under his breath. _Oh_ , thought Shao. _He’s_ that _type_ . It would explain the standoffish air and monotone voice. Shao shook his head. _Such a shame. He’s so handsome, too._

“Oh.” Tenma paused and looked over Shao’s shoulder at something. “Looks like they found you.”

Shao hugged his spice kit to his chest and wheeled around. But in the space where he expected to see Jo Baxia he saw a leaf blowing in from an open window.

Suddenly, there was a tug on his collar from behind, and he froze like a spooked cat. Cool flowery breath blew down his back and made him shiver. Breaking free, he leapt five feet back from the table into a stance.

He cursed himself. Falling for the “look behind you” trick! _What kind of idiot am I?!_

“Don’t test me, lech!” he snapped.

The wizard didn’t react. He simply remained there, contemplating the mark he surely saw on Shao’s shoulder. Then his lips formed a smile that could only be described as “devilish”.

“ _Interesting_ ,” Tenma purred. He fixed Shao with a look only hungry predators don on wounded prey. Shao gulped.

In one fluid motion, Tenma was out of his seat. Before he knew it, the wizard had him cornered against a wall. Shao took a swing. Tenma snatched his arm with ease, using it to drag him closer. _How is this guy so strong?_ Shao thought wildly. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t budge! Tenma pinched Shao’s chin, craning his neck up to face him. In this position, Shao had no choice; he had to look at him in all his glory.

His face felt hot, and his heart beat faster and harder than it ever had in twenty years of martial arts training. His smell made him forget how to speak, and his eyes made him want to do things he never thought he’d want to do before. This feeling—whatever it was! He hated it!

And the worst part: not one bit of it was a magic spell.

“Riyu Shao,” whispered Tenma.

“...What?”

“I’d like to enter a contract with you.”

A contract? Coming from an anti-social wizard, Shao could only guess; only one out of ten of the scenarios those guesses came up with was something he liked.

“Wh-What kind…?”

Tenma’s cool breath tickled Shao’s chin. “A soul-binding ritual,” he replied.

Shao was getting a little irritated. “You see, you keep doing this thing,” he said, “where you say things I’ve never heard of before and then don’t explain them. Like I’m supposed to be following along. Throw my mundane ass a bone.”

“Mundane? You?” Something about that made Tenma release a huff of laughter that made Shao’s face go red. The wizard backed away and took an embroidered pouch out from his bottomless sleeve. “The contract pools the spiritual energies of two people together. Once bound, both parties may then draw from two sources of magic instead of one.”

Tenma slid two long strips of some kind of jerky out of the pouch. Judging by how small it was compared to its contents, there was no way the bag wasn’t enchanted. Tenma took a huge chomp out of one of the pieces of jerky. Shao was a little taken aback by aesthetic dissonance.

Tenma paused, one cheek full of meat. “In simpler terms… it’s like a marriage contract.”

“Hey,” Shao said as he wrapped his knuckles around the corners of the table. “You should really chew your food before you talk, because it sounds to me like you just said you wanted to make me your wife.”

Tenma slurped up the remainder of the jerky. “If that is how you wish to refer to yourself. I have no objections.”

“I’m a man!” Shao reminded him.

“Relative,” said Tenma. “I can change your gender if it bothers you that much.”

Shao paused to think for a moment longer than he should have. “No! No no no. Do not!” he shouted. Tenma closed his half-lidded eyes just a little more. Maybe that was his form of disappointment. Or maybe indigestion. “Wait,” said Shao. “How come me and not you?”

“Menstruation,” answered Tenma with the unpleasantness of experience. His eyes turned back into Shao-seeking daggers. He grasped his hands from across the table. Shao squeaked. “You’re a godborn,” Tenma explained. “You have an unlimited source of spiritual energy. As a sorcerer, I can make use of it. Form a contract with me.”

Shao’s heart sank. This was a familiar feeling. Tenma was no different than the Jos. He should have recognized people like that by now.

“So you want a free magic buffet, huh? I get it,” said Shao. His fingers crawled across the hem of one of the wizard’s miracle sleeves. “But what do I get out of any of this?”

“You don’t understand,” said Tenma. He spoke faster. More urgent. “Others will come. I can protect you.”

Shao had already tuned out. His sneaky fingers touched a string. Tapping along that string, he discovered another bag. Shao smirked. He looked up at the beautiful man and hissed, “I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

Shao pushed away from the table. He crouched on the windowsill with his herb box in one arm. In the other, dangled the bag he stole from Tenma. Shao glanced back and twirled it around his finger tauntingly. Then he leapt out of the building and into the streets of Borderlow.

Tenma didn’t pursue. He simply laid back and poured himself another cup of wine.


	5. To Seal a Contract | Part 1

 

Shao couldn’t go back to his apartment. The place was probably——no——definitely being watched by Jo goons. He hoped they had decency enough to leave Granny Oba alone. He couldn’t go back to Tenma either, seeing as he just filched from him.

The only thing he thought to do was drown in a big bowl of noodles. The street vendor only bothered him to ask if he wanted seconds or a refill of tea; the invisible cloud of dread over Shao’s head was an effective deterrent. That’s why when the ladle-wielding man spoke, it got his attention.

“Hey, mister,” he said, pointing with his ladle, “your bag’s moving!”

Shao looked, and sure enough the pouch he stole from Tenma wriggled around on the counter. “Huh,” was all he said.

“Darling,” whispered a housewife passing by in her husband’s arm. “That man there——doesn’t he look like the one from the posters?”

Shao panicked in his head.  _No way. The Jo gang wouldn’t put up wanted posters, would they? It was one lousy necklace!_

Keeping cool, he asked the vendor, “How much?”

The noodle vendor’s eyes were wide open, the ladle trembling in his hand. The sun cast a large shadow over the stall.

“Oh,” said Shao coolly. He chugged the last of his tea. “There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?”

Before he had time to turn around, a massive hand yanked him out of his stool by the scruff of his jacket. He was dragged away from the stall, down the street, and into an alley. As he looked up from a sack of vegetables, the bulbous sneer of Jo Baxia was there to greet him.

“Found ya,” he sang. He jerked his chin at his men. “Check his back!”

The three gang members on either side of Baxia surrounded Shao, grabbed him and flipped him over on his stomach. They ripped off his jacket and pulled down the top of his tunic. Shao shivered at the cool air on his bare skin.

The goon holding down his shirt said, “You were right, Jo sir. It’s a dragon.”

That only made the disgusting simper on Baxia’s face more grotesque. “Riyu!” he said. “You never told us you were so important!”

“Sorry.” Shao struggled to shrug under the weight of two men holding him down. “This is news to me too,” he said.

Baxia knelt down, grabbing him by the braid. He pulled him up at a painful angle, forcing him to look up. A piece of paper with some fancy-looking writing filled his field of vision.

It was a notice. For a person wanted by the empire. Sure enough, the Sun of Huadalga was stamped at the bottom in blood red ink, right under the biggest number Shao had ever seen. Male, early twenties, messy black hair, braid, yellow eyes, last seen in Borderlow, and on his back… a birthmark resembling a dragon.

Baxia couldn’t contain himself. “To think, selling you off is gonna make us fortunes more than that little nose of yours ever could,” he said.

He cupped Shao’s face in his soot-covered hand. His thumb pressed against his lips, prying them open. Shao felt a wave of disgust.

“Hey, boys,” Baxia said to his men, “why don’t we have a little fun with him before we hand him over?”

“Finally!” said one of the men behind him.

Shao’s heart pounded in his chest. The way Baxia was staring at him… He  _had_ to get away. Somehow.

He kicked his legs, struggling with all his might. This only made them laugh, pull harder on his clothes until he heard them rip.

The one who didn’t have his hands on him jingled something in his hand. Shao recognized it right away: Tenma’s bag. It filled him with hope, which evaporated the second he remembered. People tend not to rescue their robbers.

Baxia grabbed Shao’s legs just as the goon reached into Tenma’s pouch. He yelped, dropping it on the ground. He shook his hand and sucked on his finger. At the same time, a tuft of white fur leapt from the bag. A white fox with nine tails stood over it, growling at the man with bite marks on his fingers.

In the confusion, Baxia and his men released Shao. They circled the fox, both bewildered and confused as to what to do. One man dove for it. But the fox was too fast. It arched over its attacker, digging its back claws into his back.

Baxia grabbed two of its nine tails. It yipped in pain. Shao rolled forward. He struck Baxia’s elbow. His grip loosened, and the fox slipped away.

The nine-tailed fox bounded up the wall and onto Shao’s shoulder. It snarled at the mobsters, protecting Shao with its tails. His nose tingled as the tips of them glowed.

Just then, a flash of white light whipped into the alleyway. It bounced against the walls and sacks and crates. Like a sentient white snake, it cracked against the legs of Baxia and his goons, laying them out on the ground.

As the dust settled, Shao saw him. Standing there, like a figure in a painting. Tenma.

The wizard strolled down the alley toward Shao, making sure to step on at least one of the gang members’ heads. “You look like you need help,” he said.

“I had it handled,” said Shao. No way he was going to tell him he was hoping for him to come save him.

“If you say so,” the sorcerer said. He lashed his whip at the wall. A dozen tiny sparks fell on the faces of the men on the ground.

But not Baxia. The lumbering man lurched back up. “You!” he shouted. “I knew I’d see you again,” he said, reaching for his belt. “So I came prepared.”

Baxia pulled out a rusty sword. Tenma seemed to pay it no mind. Shao knew better.

“That thing’s dripping with magic,” he warned him.

Tenma clenched his jaw. He aimed the whip at the sword’s hilt. But just as it seemed to touch, the line wobbled. Baxia flashed an ugly grin and hacked at the whip. The light made a fizz sound as it flickered. Baxia slashed at it again with the sword before Tenma had a chance to dodge. The light sparked wildly, then melted into nothing.

The wizard waved his hand, wincing as if it stung. Baxia’s men were up again, out for his blood. Shao’s heel touched a wall as he stepped back. They were backed into a corner.

“You know,” said Shao, “now would be a really good time for you to do something. Y’know——wizard-y!”

Tenma’s fingertips sparked. “I can’t,” he said as calmly as could be. “The sword absorbed all my energy.” He pinched his fingers a few times. “Interesting,” he added.

“Now’s not the time!” snapped Shao.

He shut his eyes. There was no way out of this. If he had power that Tenma could use…

“Fine, I’ll do it!”

“Do what?”

“The contract! I accept your contract!”

Tenma smirked. He knew exactly what he meant the second he said it.

His hands danced in the air in front of him. A flurry of complicated characters appeared, swirling in a circle of bright purple. They rotated faster and faster until they formed a white ring. The ring hummed as it shrank around Tenma’s fingers. The air around them crackled. Their clothes and hair floated up.

Tenma touched his fingertips to his lips. He slipped his arm around Shao’s back. Their chests touched as he held his chin, craning his neck up to bask in his unreal beauty. Shao remembered being enveloped in a pleasant warmth that smelled like roses. Then he remembered the softest lips he’d ever imagined, and the heat of them against his.

A pillar of light engulfed the two, blinding Baxia and his men. Chimes layered together until they were an ear-piercing screech. Then——nothing.

Baxia and his men were alone in the alley. Shao and the wizard had disappeared without a trace.


	6. To Seal a Contract | Part 2

Shao blinked a hundred times before he could see again. His stomach did somersaults in his belly. He made it to the window just in time to hurl his half-digested noodles in the yard. He must have looked ridiculous, not that Tenma even bothered to look at him. He was already packing his things.

Shao pat the windowsill. A familiar windowsill. His feet had touched this. The room at the inn?

“Urp….” His cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk. “I feel like a hot toilet,” he groaned.

“A side effect of teleportation.” Tenma cast a glance at him after having pulled the strings of a bag shut. “You get used to it after around the hundredth time.”

Shao threw up again.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling how warm and full of blood his face still was. That made him remember. He flipped around and stabbed a finger at the wizard. “You  _ kissed  _ me!”

Tenma’s face couldn’t be more aloof. “Yes,” he replied.

Shao made an unintelligible sputtering noise.  _ What the fuck? _ “What the  _ fuck _ ?!”

“Complicated spells like that need a seal. Or they don’t work,” said Tenma, as simply as if he was explaining why the sky changes color everyday. He extended his pointer finger. “Like a period at the end of a sentence.” Poke.

“Agh!” Shao kicked his feet around on the floor like a child. He rubbed his lips red against his sleeve. “I think… I think you put some tongue in!”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining.” Tenma threw a silky black traveling cloak over his shoulders. “There are more potent seals I could have used. That one was weak.”

A waterfall of blood flushed Shao’s eardrums.  _ The hell does  _ that _ mean?! _

“Or perhaps….” Tenma put one knee on the floor. He tilted his head at Shao, a demon’s sneer hiding underneath his long white eyelashes. “That was your first…?”

“Okay!” Shao heaved his body off the window. “Now I’m gonna kill you!”

But as soon as his foot slammed down on the floor, a cloud of dust puffed up in his face. It got in his eyes, and he stumbled backwards. The bottom of his foot was hot, as if he stepped on a stone baking in the summer sun.

Tenma looked down. A monotone, “Aww,” leaked out as he bent down to pick something up. Held in his hand was a pile of gold dust and charred beads.

“Is that the dragon medallion?” Shao asked.

“What’s left of it,” Tenma said. He turned his hand to the side and let the ashes float away. “Dragon?”

Shao didn’t really understand the question. Tenma didn’t wait for him to.

“The one I made it with… he saw a turtle on the medallion.” He tapped his chin and muttered another one of his “interesting”s under his breath.

“So, not only did it give me a huge scab on my back, but it can be used to teleport too?” said Shao. “How’s that work?”

Tenma eyelids drooped as far as they could without shutting. He really didn’t like answering questions, huh?

“Two spells in one: godborn scrying and teleportation.” Even though his face never changed, somehow Shao knew he was proud of himself. A little too proud of himself. “It was never meant to be used a second time. We’re lucky we didn’t end up in someone’s fireplace.”

“Yay,” mumbled Shao.

Tenma put away his weird jerky bag. “Teleportation is tricky. A colleague I know ended up on the bottom of the Azure Sea. They still haven’t found him.” He paused, then seemed to remember his original train of thought. “Teleportation is also the easiest spell to track. So we won’t be using it.”

Shao frowned. That reminded him. “Aw, damn it….” He kicked the pile of medallion dust on the floor. “I forgot. The empire’s got everyone from Borderlow to who-knows-where looking for me. Whose belly did I rub to get this lucky?”

Tenma held up one of his spindly fingers. “One moment.” 

He slipped something around Shao’s neck. His nose perked up.  _ Oh, great. Another shitty amulet. _

“This will hide your face from strangers. We should be safe as soon as we leave this city,” Tenma explained. “I was going to give it to you before you stormed off.”

Shao narrowed his eyes at him. “Oi….”

But wait. He must have prepared it beforehand. Did he know Shao would need it? He was a little suspicious. A little something else.

Tenma gave him a knowing stare. He plucked a strand of white hair from the back of his head. “I told you, remember?” His fingers traced a character in the air. Shao felt his ripped clothes shift as the hair threaded them back together. “I’ll protect you.”

Shao breath caught in his throat. For a second, he saw his father. But it made him feel different… in some way; he didn’t know.

“Ah,” Tenma said, as if he remembered something. He yanked something bulky out of his sleeve and offered it to Shao. 

Wait. That rainbow of smells. That rustle of cylinders. Could it be? His baby?

“My spices!” Shao actually shouted out loud. He hugged the box close and kissed it a hundred times as Tenma looked on, not sure what to make of it.

They finished packing and left Tenma’s room at the inn. As the silver-haired beauty paid his exorbitant wine bill, the attendant girl who served him openly wept.  _ There, there _ , Shao told her in his head.  _ This piece of work doesn’t deserve your pretty tears _ .

Shao stopped him in the shadow of the entryway. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Back to the mountain,” answered Tenma. “We have to——”

A few fluffy tails shuffled out of his robe to interrupt him. The white fox from before leapt out and licked Shao’s nose. The ticklish sensation made him giggle. It had a small red gem embedded on its forehead. He was almost weightless compared to his size, so he could cuddle him with ease; judging by that and the extra eight tails, Shao guessed this was probably not a normal fox. But he was so dang cute he didn’t care!

“You were a big help before, little buddy! Who’s a good boy?” The fox chirped and gave his cheek a few more licks.  _ He _ was.  _ He _ was a good boy. “What’s his name?”

Tenma, more than a little annoyed at the interruption, answered, “Adaji. Fox spirit.” With that tone, it was more like he was talking about a fly over his dinner than his pet. “He feeds off of magical energy. That’s probably why he followed you. Don’t let your guard down,” he added to Shao, whose guard couldn’t be more down.

Tenma just sighed. “Apple,” he chanted. The red stone in Adaji’s forehead blinked. Shao smelled it. The fox whined and jumped back into Tenma’s clothes.

“So,” said Shao, a little disappointed from the lack of fox kisses. “Where to?”

Tenma didn’t say anything at first. He simply sauntered off down the road. Just when Shao thought he wasn’t going to look back, he did.

The silver-haired wizard flashed him one of his rare smiles. “This way, dear,” he called.

Shao turned purple. For just a moment, he forgot the very real fact that he was now trapped in a marriage. A magical marriage. To a sorcerer. A male sorcerer. Who he just met.

“Yeah, that’s gonna take some getting used to,” Shao muttered before he ran to catch up after his new partner.


	7. Black Smoke

Outside the teahouse, Jo Baxia slouched in a chair too small for him. It creaked with every move he made. He fiddled with the hilt of the sword he stole from his father’s vault in his pocket. Well, it used to be a whole sword. Nobody told him it would break after he used it once. He rubbed a cut on his lip from one of Boss Jo’s rings.

Baxia shivered. A blast of cool air blew through the narrow street. Following it was a long-robed man strolling with the shadows. Baxia tightened his fist around the sword hilt, thinking it was that wizard with the pretty face again. He paused. As the stranger got closer, he could see his long dark hair, billowing loosely behind him. Not even what he could see of his face had a hint of color. His skin was pale, like a dead person’s.

The stranger halted an uncomfortable distance away, looking very much like a ghost. Baxia broke out into a cold sweat. Was he a revenant, here to punish him for his misdeeds?

“Teahouse is closed,” Baxia barked.

“I’m not interested in tea,” the man in black said. His voice was like the wind he came in on. Cold. Biting. “I’m here to see your leader.”

Baxia got off his baby stool. “Wh-What for?”

The man didn’t answer him; he brushed past through the curtains into the shop. Baxia lumbered after him.

The bulk of the Jo gang was inside, including two of his older brothers and father. They sat around a table in the back, partitioned off by some screens and a cloud of smoke.

His father’s grimace twisted around his pipe when he saw the intruder. “Thought I told you: no one comes in,” he spat at his youngest. “Can’t even do _that_ job right?”

Before Baxia could apologize, the dark stranger marched past him and dropped a huge sack on their table. He heard the clink of coins as the bag sagged. “Emperor Sahaku sent me,” said the long-robed man.

Boss Jo screwed his good eye at the man, jerking his chin at his third son. Baxia’s brother grabbed the sack and checked its contents. He handed it over to his father, barely able to contain his excitement. “Huadalga gold scales. It’s the real deal.”

Boss Jo flashed the man a crooked smile. He shooed his sons away from the table. Baxia and his brother joined the other men as they watched from afar.

“Please,” said Boss Jo, gesturing across from him with his pipe, “take a seat.”

The stranger obliged. He casually smoothed his hair back. Baxia ogled his face from the side. He had a fair face with an almost permanent simper on his lips, like he just watched one of his mortal enemies drawn and quartered. A deep scar intersected that smile.

Just as Baxia was wondering what could have caused it, his breath stopped in his throat. He began to panic, but he found his body unable to move from its spot at the table. His unblinking eyes searched around for help. But only one person was looking at him.

Baxia gawked, silently suffocating at the soulless black eyes locked on him from the side. The corners of the imperial stranger’s mouth twisted even farther.

But Boss Jo did not see this sideways glance, nor the beads of cold sweat dotting his fourthborn’s forehead. All he saw was a huge sack of gold sitting in front of him.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said. “My name is Zankai Hei, imperial court official.” While he spoke he took out an ivory pipe. Several intricate characters were etched into the surface. “Pardon me,” he said, holding up his pipe, “may I join you?”

Boss Jo blew a ring of smoke into his face. “Go ahead.” He waited for Zankai to stuff and light his pipe before speaking again, disregarding the strange blue color of the leaves. “I know why you’re here. So let’s talk.” He plucked one of the gold scales from the bag and rolled it in between his fingers. “His name is Riyu Shao. Rolled in here about five years ago with his old man before he croaked. Then he worked for me. Handsome kid. Bit of a street rat.” Something about that made him laugh. “Then again, most of the boys in this room are street rats, eh?”

Zankai laughed. “So it goes with orphans.” He paused to take a long drag from his pipe. He blew a plume of dark smoke over his shoulder. “I visited his house before coming here. It was wiped clean. The landlady told me you chased him out of town.” Another puff. “Care to tell me where he went?”

“I _could_ tell you….”

Boss Jo scratched the underside of his broad chin—something he only did when he was lying through his teeth. The only thing he knew about Riyu Shao’s whereabouts were the ravings of his idiot fourthborn. _He_ told him Riyu kissed a magician and disappeared in a beam of light. He had no idea where he was now, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to get another bag of the emperor’s gold.

“Thing is,” he said, “I’ve already told you so much already. Anything more ain’t worth the coin you’ve given me.” He tapped the empty space next to gold with the end of his pipe. “I’ve got a business to run; you understand.”

Zankai nodded along with the gang leader, taking an occasional puff. “Of course. How presumptuous of me.”

He leaned forward, removing another large pouch from seemingly nowhere. The bag made a different sound than before, hitting the table with one single thud. Boss Jo’s ears were too full of money to notice.

Jo took hold of the opening to check the contents. “Riyu left Borderlow. But he’s not alone. My youngest says he’s got a pretty magician with—”

Boss Jo’s pipe fell out of his mouth.

Zankai propped himself up on his leg and leaned in excitedly. “A _magician_ , you say? Now _that_ is information!”

Boss Jo offered no reaction. He only continued to stare, wide-eyed at what was in the bag. This couldn’t be real. One of his boys took something from the vault again. Magical trickery. A prank.

“You see, I feel a little bad,” said Zankai. He leaned in venomously close. “I expected more bullshit. So I brought you a gift in preparation for said bullshit. But here you are, telling me something I didn’t already know! Good for you!”

Boss Jo found his tongue. He held the object in the bag, ignoring the blood leaking from the bottom. This was no trick. This was real.

Zankai had switched positions, now sitting snug next to the boss. He draped an arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “Your son was a greedy bastard too….”

Elder Jo directed all his sudden rage and grief at the man next to him. “Kill this fucker!” he screamed at his men. But he couldn’t see through the cloud of black smoke now cloaking the room. Zankai laughed and then blew it away in one single breath.

His men—even his three remaining sons. They were all face-down on their tables, blue, unmoving. Dead.

Zankai gave Jo a moment to take it in. Then he drove his pipe through his skull.

After wiping the blood off, he observed his handiwork. In total, twenty men at once. He beamed. He broke his record!

Then he noticed the behemoth in the corner. Baxia. The one he paralyzed with his eyes. He probably died from suffocation before the miasma formed, seeing as he couldn’t breathe it in. Zankai hissed. Nineteen.

The sorcerer squatted over his body, assessing it. Young. Large muscle mass. Not very smart. “Perfect,” he said to himself.

Zankai took out a fan. After writing a simple mudra, he swiped it over Baxia’s corpse. It was still for a moment. Then his extremities began to shake. His arms and legs shuddered, and his neck shook violently back and forth. His eyeballs rolled back until the only thing there was a white void.

Zankai stood over him, his arms crossed patiently. “Stand,” he ordered. Baxia’s corpse obeyed. It moved awkwardly at first, stilted. “Pick that up,” said Zankai. He pointed over at the bag of money at Elder Jo’s table. Baxia’s corpse shambled over. He jerked up the bag with the severed head in it.“Wrong one!” Zankai hissed. The corpse shuddered again, as if its master’s anger gave it the illusion of pain.

When Baxia had finally retrieved the right bag, Zankai turned on his heel and headed for the exit. He motioned for his lumbering thrall to follow. That’s when he saw it.

He knelt over one of the men taken by the poison gas. Under his bloated belly, he saw something that shouldn’t belong. A small pouch. Dark violet. Silver embroidery. Two characters in the corner. _His_ needlework.

He pinched the velvety cloth between his fingers and smelled it. A thousand memories came rushing back to him—all of them now bitter.

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Oh, Jin,” he said to no one. “What are you up to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustration: http://fav.me/dclgd87


	8. Dream Eater | Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If anyone's reading this, I love you!

“I hate wizards,” Shao muttered under his breath as he hammered yet another nail into another piece of wood. This was the fourth job that day, and every one involved a hammer and wood. After the third time, it just seemed like a divine joke.

After keeping up with Tenma’s infuriatingly brisk pace for about a day, Shao demanded they stop and rest. To this Tenma made a face, but slowed down and said, “Fine.”

That's how they found themselves in Somberset Village, a southern settlement with an incredibly ironic name; every villager greeted them with a smile. Even the innkeeper chuckled at them as she kicked them out of her establishment with their empty pockets.

“You expect me to believe you don’t have  _ any _ money?” Shao said to the wizard. “Just how big was that wine bill back in Borderlow?!”

Tenma blinked slowly. “You took my purse.”

Shao could only frown and make funny throat sounds at this because--yes, he did steal it. And it wasn’t like he had time to dig up his savings in the backyard before they skipped town. So, for now they were broke. Tired, hungry, and broke.

The carpenter who hired him whistled as he chiseled into a table leg. He was doing it with one hand, the other arm propped up limp in his sleeve. Shao caught a glimpse of the sewn end of a stump; it was an old scar.

Shao twirled one of the nails in between his fingers. “If you don’t mind my asking,” he said, “where’s your apprentice?”

The carpenter picked a stray wood chip out of his hair. “Conscripted,” he answered. “As was the one before that, and the one before that.” He brushed the dust away from a fresh motif of a happy frog on a lily pad. He looked back at Shao. “As was I, when the North seceded. Anything for His Holiness.”

The nail between Shao’s fingers froze. That last part sounded like it was supposed to be sarcasm, but judging by the wistful nostalgia playing off of the carpenter’s face, it was anything but. He really believed in the legitimacy of Emperor Sahaku’s throne, so much that he was willing to give up his hand and his trade to protect it.

“I guess that explains the fact that there are no men here,” said Shao. “All off on the front, fighting the evil rebels.”

When Shao got his fill of hammering wood, it was time to get paid. But as much as he boasted about his self-proclaimed appetite for money, his heart was much bigger. He conveniently forgot his pay on the carpenter’s doorstep.

As Shao walked the streets of Somberset, he couldn’t help but feel anxious. It was almost like the magic itch, but far less potent than he was used to. He didn’t notice it until now, but there were almost no men around. When he and Tenma strolled into town, a procession of women gawked and giggled at them from their storefronts--several of which they tended while their husbands were at war. 

And plastered on every single one of their faces was the same serene, happy expression. Like monks who’ve reached enlightenment. It was this alone that sparked the unease in him.

It didn’t take long for Shao to snap up another job. A plump woman flagged him down from the street. She had him spin in a circle, looked him over, and hired him to tend her bar. He’d had a little experience at this, none of them pleasant. But a warm bed was all he cared about at that point.

Shao wiped down the counter in front of a couple of housewives.

“Big Brother’s  _ so _ handsome,” said one with cherry-red cheeks. “Wanna be my new husband?”

Her companion tugged on her bun. “No fair! I saw him first!” She leaned in and flashed her long eyelashes. The collar of her dress hung loose, and he caught a peek of the promised land. “I’m a little older than you, but that just means I’m--” The woman shook, holding back some vomit. “--experienced.”

Shao only smiled and nudged her cup out of the way of her slippery elbow. He didn’t know if it was the nagging sense of magic or their loud advances putting him off. He was just glad this place was temporary.

Their confidence was warranted. They were both attractive. Women fawning over him was a new experience, dreams of which he indulged in more than he would have liked to admit. But there was just something… off.

A pair of slender fingers tapped the bar, signalling for a refill. Shojo Blue, a strong wine--expensive too. He was in the middle of pouring when he finally realized who those fingers belonged to.

“You’re popular,” Tenma said, downing almost half the glass.

“And  _ you’re _ ridiculous!” Shao snapped. He wielded his damp towel at the wizard. “How exactly do you plan to pay for that?”

Tenma pinched a huge row of coppers from his miracle sleeve and dropped it on the counter. “Currency,” he replied.

Bewildered, Shao grabbed his wrist and glared down the bottomless hole. Sure enough, he found a treasure trove of coins. His lips turned white in an effort to hold back the rage in front of customers. “How, may I ask,” he said, teeth clenched, “did you come about this fortune?”

“Brewed a potion. Enchanted a hair clip,” said the wizard. Tenma’s brow curved in confusion. He didn’t understand why Shao was upset, which upset Shao even more.

“So you’re telling me: that I’ve been hammering nails into wood and getting groped all day for absolutely no reason?”

Tenma traced the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.” His eyes thinned as a smirk rounded his lips. “I liked watching you run around.”

That look alone was enough to strike down Shao’s ability to form words. All he could do was wring his dirty towel and hide his face behind a stack of cups.

A boy, barely tall enough to reach the counter, scampered in out of breath. He scanned the bar until he spotted Tenma, then rushed over to him.

“Mister Wizard,” he said. “Headman Yindi sent me to find you, sir. Said it’s ‘erjen.’”

“Urgent?” Shao said.

“Yes, that’s what he said!”

Tenma had already finished his glass of Shojo Blue. He straightened his clothes and passed the messenger boy a copper. Tenma curled his finger at Shao. “Come along, dear. I may need you.”

Despite his protests, Shao tagged along anyway. He followed him to the edge of Somberset’s main road, to a house a little larger than the others. A woe-faced man was there to greet them.

“Master Tenma, thank you for coming so quickly,” he said. The man bowed to Shao. “You must be his companion. I am Yindi. The people of Somberset call me their headman.”

Shao bowed back. “Nice to meet you. My name is R--”

“Shen Ren,” Tenma cut in. “Was there an issue with the elixir?”

“Yes… and no.” Yindi scratched his neck nervously. “Perhaps I should just show you.”

The headman led them out of the entrance hall and into the inner room. The room was dim, the only light leaking from the window shutters. In the middle of the room was a straw bed; a little girl, no older than eight or nine, slept there. 

Her body was as still as a corpse.


	9. Dream Eater | Part 2

Shao studied the girl in the bed of straw. Her chest rose and fell, almost faintly enough to miss. Her lips were drawn into a comfortable smile; it didn’t fit the dried tears on her cheeks.

“My daughter, Jia. The potion was for her,” said Yindi.

Tenma knelt beside the girl’s head. He held his hand above her mouth, feeling her breath. “Did she wake?”

“Y-Yes… and no.” Headman Yindi sat beside his daughter. “She opened her eyes. But then… she started screaming, crying. I couldn’t get her to calm down. It was like she couldn’t see me.” His knuckles whitened around his knees. “Then she went back to sleep again. Just like that.”

Tenma nodded. “A common reaction when spells contradict,” he said.

A bell went off in Shao’s head. The town’s cloud of weirdness made sense to him now. No doubt about it: Somberset was under a spell. And little Jia had it the worst.

“She’s being kept asleep by magic,” he murmured. 

Tenma eyed him for a while before speaking. “Correct,” he said. Shao froze. Was that…  _ praise _ in his voice…?

The wizard shimmied closer to the girl. He whipped his robes in a trail behind him and adjusted his legs, settling into a meditation stance. With his eyes closed, he placed his fingers on Jia’s temples.

Yindi and Shao glanced at each other, anxious. The only sounds in the room were the buzzes of birds and beetles outside. Shao sensed a new rosy layer of magic. It drew his attention to Tenma’s fingers; they traced tiny characters into the girl’s temples. He wished he knew the language, since he’d fully given up on getting clued in on anything. Though for a second, he could have sworn he saw Tenma write something that resembled the common symbol for “source.”

As soon as he began, Tenma stopped. He opened his eyes and got up. Then left.

“Wait a damn minute!” Shao called after him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

Tenma forged a path through the trees behind the headman’s house. Finally, he stopped at a small clearing beside a creek.

Magic hit Shao like a bull. “Ugh.” He put his hand up to his face to guard his nose from the stench.“Yeah, there’s definitely some fuckery going on here,” he said, face screwed up. Normally, it was a pleasant smell, like fruit or grass. Tenma’s magic smelled like flowers. But this… this was like a rotting ball of rats.

“Adaji,” Tenma called. The fox popped out of his clothes, awaiting orders. The wizard flicked his hand at a rock. “Fetch.”

“That’s what you use your familiar for, huh? Picking shit up off the ground?” Shao said as Adaji crunched down on the rock.

“Would you prefer I ask  _ you _ ?” said Tenma.

Shao paused. “Missing the point.”

Tenma chucked the rock at the clearing. Shao was confused until he saw it. Just before it arched to the ground, the rock’s image wobbled and disappeared.

Deeming his field test a success, the wizard marched forward. Then disappeared.

“Darling,” Tenma said in a dry voice, “are you coming?”

Shao leapt in the air and wailed like a ghost. Hovering in front of him was Tenma’s bodiless head, looking back at him. 

No doubt he noticed Shao’s lack of pigment. The wizard’s hand reappeared and pointed at the creek. “Look there.” The small stream curved in the place he indicated. “Notice anything?”

Shao shot the guy a dirty look. Then he squinted at the creek. “The water… It’s running both ways.”

“Almost like a mirror, hm?” Tenma’s head turned to him. “Shao,” he said slowly, “you’ll be fine. Trust me.” He reached out from the void and offered his hand.

Shao narrowed his eyes at it. He’s known Tenma for less than a week, but Shao liked to pretend he was a good judge of people. Tenma was a glutton and a jerk who took pleasure in seeing him flounder like a fool, but he never intentionally put him in danger. Plus, it was almost impossible for him to refuse when he said his name in that voice…

Shao stuck his bottom lip out, shut his eyes and took a step forward. Tenma pulled him through the barrier, bathing him in a prickly pressure. The sensation threw off his balance and Tenma had to catch him before he fell.

“You can open your eyes now,” the wizard told him.

Shao peered over Tenma’s shoulder. “What the…?”

They were standing in the same clearing as before. Only now, a small shack sat in the middle of it. He sniffed. This… was definitely the source of Somberset’s curse.

Tenma held his arm out to the entrance. “After you,” he said.

Too curious to start another fight, Shao crept into the shack. He pinched his nose at the smell. Behind him, Tenma drew a symbol. A purple light sparked in the palm of his hand, illuminating the room.

What Shao saw made him dip behind Tenma. 

In the corner of the room, next to a treasure trove of dusty trinkets, was a writhing mound of fat. The creature was completely bald. Four paws poked out from its rolls, as well as a thin tail; its head was buried in the pile of treasure.

“The hell is  _ that _ ?” murmured Shao.

Tenma spoke at his normal volume, clearly unafraid of waking it. “The town thief.” The magician tossed his ball of light in the empty fireplace to light the room. He jabbed the creature’s amorphous belly; his foot almost sank into it. “Wake up, you.”

The creature’s body shuddered as it rolled over. The pot on its head tumbled away, revealing a long head with fuzzy spoons for ears and a stubby trunk. Its black eyes blinked a few times, then glared at them.

“Go away,” the creature hissed. “I’m sleeping.”

“I noticed,” said Tenma. “This is your eviction notice.”

The naked creature shifted its massive body onto its hind legs, grumbling and growling as it did. “Who’re you? This is Baku’s house. Go away!”

“Oi, Tenma,” Shao half-yelled half-whispered. “Why is the naked elephant pig thing talking?”

“He’s a dream eater, a spirit that feeds off of nightmares,” said Tenma. “They’re supposed to be migratory. But our friend here is a rebel.”

Baku’s trunk lifted to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, curved in a wide smile. “That’s right,” he said. “I haven’t eaten this good in two hundred years. Only a fool would leave!”

“Profiteering off the war, are you?” spat Shao.

“ _ Profit _ ?” Baku’s ears twitched at him. “Just look how happy they are. I provide a service!”

Tenma crossed his arms, clearly not buying it. “Does that service include putting little girls in comas?”

Shao saw the dots connecting. If he lived in a depressing town and his dreams were filled with nothing but endless buffets and card games, he wouldn’t want to wake up either.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he said. “Bad dreams help us deal with our pain. You’re taking that away from them.”

“Bah! If I told you to stop eating eggs because it stresses out the chickens, would you?” Baku sneered. He lurched his awkward body forward and wiggled his long nose at him. “Hey. You smell pretty good, human.”

Shao dodged the Baku’s trunk before it could prod him. Tenma made his body a shield, playing with the handle of his magic whip. “What would it take for you to leave, spirit?”

The subtle threat did not go unnoticed. Baku shuffled, jiggling his body. Then his eyes pinned Shao and he grinned. 

Baku pointed with his trunk. “I want him,” he demanded. “Give him to me and I’ll leave those sad villagers alone.”

“No,” Tenma said. No hesitation.

Baku’s snout contorted, taken aback. His paws slammed down. Claws sparked against the ground. The creature’s eyes gleamed with anger. “Why  _ not _ ?”

Tenma threw his arm out. A beam of light snaked out of the whip handle. He tilted his head and shot him a cockeyed smirk.

“Because he’s mine.”


	10. Dream Eater | Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and the awesome feedback *cries* #blessed
> 
> Enjoy! (^_^)7

Baku lunged. Tenma shoved Shao out of his path. The fat beast crashed through a rotten desk; belly and splinters went everywhere. Baku took a swipe at Shao. He threw his lower body back.

As he was off-balance, Baku swiped his other paw. But Tenma’s whip wrapped around it, taut. He flicked his wrist and the light flashed. Baku howled an inhuman scream. He shifted his body weight back, tearing the whip out of Tenma’s hand. The wizard’s heel fumbled over a cup; he caught himself, but not before Baku charged. The beast’s teeth grew as he cracked open his jaw; Tenma blocked his vitals, catching the bite with his forearm. A ghost of a wince crossed his face.

No time to think, Shao kicked off the wall; he spun through the air, aiming for Baku’s head. Direct hit.

Consciousness wavered. A bridge formed: from Tenma’s flesh to Baku’s fangs to Shao’s foot. Shao felt weightless, like he was floating in a pool of invisible water. Warbled sounds and Splotchy images played out in front of him.

Someone in black, smiling. Laughter. The full moon reflected in a pool of water. Calm music— a zither. Hands entwined. Breathless gasps.

A string on the zither snaps. The moon turns red; the pool floods with blood. A quickening pulse drums behind the dissonant strings. The boy in black looks down at him, contorting shadows on his face. He laughs again; it chills. His bloody hand reaches for Shao; the fingers turn to snakes and bare their fangs. Hissing.

The last image Shao saw was as clear as day: the boy. Eyes and hair, black as a starless sky. Half eyebrows, a tiny forehead mole. Tears glistened on his pale cheeks.

Now Shao wasn't one to stare at his own reflection. But there was no way he could deny how shockingly similar they looked. 

The dumb looks Shao gave were far less complex though. In the boy's face, love became fear. Fear became hope. Hope became betrayal. He turned, the tears froze over, and all those emotions solidified into cold raw _hatred_.

“ _This is your fault_ ….”

The bridge snapped.

“Riyu!”

Tenma’s voice brought him back. Shao shook his head. The wizard was standing above him, holding Baku’s gaping maw back with his bare hands. His fingertips glowed a faint purple; he must have stopped in the middle of a spell. The open wound on Tenma’s arm dripped into a puddle at Shao’s feet.

Shao looked around for something— anything to stop Baku’s furious onslaught. Every object in his treasure pile had some sort of enchantment. But one of them…

Shao rolled across the floor. Tenma released his grip; Baku’s jaws clapped shut, and he fell headfirst into the wall. Shao took the opportunity to thrust his hand into the pile of cups and statues.

He touched something cold and hard. Then he heard whispers. _That’s weird_ , he thought. But he didn’t care. There was a raging beast coming right for him. He could use his brain later. The object jumped into his hand on its own, and he wrenched it out.

The scream of metal. A flash of light. Thunderous vibration.

In his hand he held a sword; along its edges pulsed a radiant golden light.

Baku charged him, ear’s back and teeth bared. Tenma shouted from the other side of the room, “Hit it!”

Shao shut his eyes.

 _Slash_.

The golden energy sparked off the blade, spinning into Baku’s belly. The creature screamed.

 _Boom_!

Tenma and Shao guarded their eyes; Baku exploded into a hundred balls of light. Their velocity slowed, until the orbs hovered in the air like fireflies. After a while, they dispersed. All except the biggest.

“Good job.” Tenma plucked the ball of light between his fingers.

Shao heard the faintest sound of a girl crying. The tone matched up with the shuddering glow. “Is that Jia’s...?”

Tenma nodded. “He got bored of nightmares. So he started eating souls.” He took a small jar out, dropped the orb inside and handed it to Shao. “Keep it safe.”

The smashed furniture debris shifted. Shao’s knuckled whitened around the hilt of the sword. His poor knees couldn’t take much more of this whole combat thing. What he wouldn’t do for a nice long nap.

“Wait.” Tenma put his hand on Shao’s and lowered the sword. “It’s okay.”

A cloud of dust puffed up from under a lumpy carpet. The lump squirmed. A tiny nose popped out and sneezed again.

 _Squeak_.

Shao blinked. “Squeak?”

Tenma whipped away the carpet. When the dust cleared, a piglet-shaped creature sat in the middle of the floor. The fuzzy grey body shivered as its paws hid its eyes from the scary humans.

Shao was dumbstruck. “Wait, is that— Baku?”

“Let me see that.” Tenma took the sword from Shao. The second it passed into his hand, the golden glow disappeared. He examined it up close. His gaze flitted to Shao, narrowed.

“...Interesting.”


	11. Dream Eater | Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: 8/27/18
> 
> I kinda hated how this chapter turned out so I went back and edited it a bit. Sorry for being a lazy b when I initially posted it, lol.
> 
> Anyway, I can't thank you enough for reading this. It's a huge motivation boost. Love you! <3

Headman Yindi was sweating bullets by the time they got back to his house. After all, they _ did  _ swoop out of there without so much as a, “We’ll be back.”

The soup ladle in Yindi’s hands cracked from the pressure. “Did you find something?”

“A spirit. It won’t be bothering you anymore," answered Tenma. He held his hand out to Shao expectantly. "The jar, Shen.”   _ Oh right  _ , Shao thought.  _ That’s my dumb fake name  _ .

Shao took the jar of light out of his pocket, shocked at how warm to the touch it was. Tenma took it, popped the cork, and gently plucked out the soul. As he knelt down next to Jia, Shao could already see some color return to her cheeks. Tenma dropped the ball of light, and it sank into her chest.

Everything was silent. Not even bugs or birds this time. And just like that, the little girl’s eyes opened.

“Jia!” Yindi dove at his daughter, raining kisses on her forehead. The headman ran over with his ladle to the pot of stew over the fireplace; he frantically scooped out two days-worth of food into a small bowl; it was pink, with yellow peonies painted on the sides.

As his back was turned, Shao watched Jia’s eyes. They were distant at first, like she wasn’t sure she was awake. But a slow realization took over. And with it, two globs of tears.

“Big Brother…,” she cried. Soft sobs turned quick to hysterical wails. “I w-want Big Brother….”

Yindi’s face went white. Pretty soon, he started crying too. He dropped the stew and scooped his daughter into his arms. “Shh, I know,” he soothed, rocking back and forth. “I know.”

Jia’s hands clenched onto her father’s tunic, so hard they shook.

In that moment, Shao understood. There was a reason the headman was spared from the army’s death count. Just as there was a reason why he doted on his little girl so much. A plume of fresh incense sizzled in the corner; beside it sat a wooden horse. A shrine. He saw a toy horse just like that one at the carpenter’s shop— right where his apprentice used to work. Pink. A yellow peony on its cheek. He likely never got the opportunity to give it to the person he made it for.

Shao sat beside Jia; he kept his expression soft, calming. “I lost someone too,” he said. “It’s hard— nothing is the same. You can’t be happy, ‘cause they’re not there to share it with you.”

Jia twisted her hands in her blankets. She nodded.

“I was sad for a long time.” Shao closed his eyes. “But then I realized something: my memories of him— nothing could take those away. He’s watching over me every day.” Shao took her hands, squeezing them with every word. “You loved your big brother very much, right?”

Jia sniffed. “...Yes.”

“And I know for a fact that he loved you too.”

“How do you know…?”

Shao wiped the tears from her cheeks with his sleeve. The carpenter’s shop was five minutes away. Two if he ran.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

 

Shao flopped his body out on the bed. Fighting magical creatures, comforting little girls, hammering nails into wood— the weight of that entire day bled out of him like a broken dam. But then he remembered Jia’s face, lighting up at the toy horse her brother carved for her. As crazy as he was for thinking it, his whole shitty week was worth it. Just for that.

For their help, Yindi gave them four strings of copper and a free room at his sister’s inn. He absolutely would  _ not  _ take no for an answer. Shao gave up as soon as Tenma told him he was embarrassing him.  _ Ass _ .

Tenma sat on the edge of the other bed, chewing on a sliver of his mystery meat. Every now and then Shao would catch him staring. He peeked one eye up from the pillow. “What?”

“You surprise me.”

“I’m gonna regret asking this: how so?”

“You’re soft.”

Shao scrunched up his face. “So basic empathy is being soft, huh? Well excuse me for being human.” He turned on his side, back to Tenma. “Quit making fun of me.”

Tenma stared into his jerky. “I’m not.”

Shao hesitated. He rolled up into a sitting position and studied the wizard’s blank face. “You know,” he said, “we could have just taken the headman’s money for the potion. Leave Somberset to its own problems. You didn’t have to put your life on the line for them.”

Tenma didn't so much as laugh but let a puff of air escape his mouth prison. “Please. My life is never on the line.” Tenma turned his head, staring at a lamp on the other side of the room. “I don't leave work half-finished. That's all.”

“Really? So nearly getting your arm bitten off: that was planned?” Shao laughed.  _ You liar. _

His own words reminded him of Baku's fangs sinking into Tenma's arm back at the cottage, and the blood pooling between his toes as he protected him; Shao gulped.

“So how is that? Y'know, the… wound.”

“This?” Tenma pulled back his sleeve; Shao shrieked and covered his eyes before he could see it. “It’s almost gone.”

Shao peeked through his fingers. He couldn’t believe it: two scabs, no bigger than mosquito bites. “Wait a second. You were mauled three hours ago, and it’s almost  _ healed _ ?” Shao stopped, shook his head. "Oh, I get it. You cast a spell or something behind my back."

Tenma shook his head. "Can't. Not on myself. Even if I could, I'd have to use the contract for that; you would have felt it. Healing spells cost a lot of energy."

The wizard yawned. Funny he mentioned energy, as three consecutive sentences sucked it out of him. He untied his hair and laid down; his white locks fell around him like snow. Shao caught himself staring.

"So, you heal that fast... naturally? You know that's not normal," said Shao.

“For humans,” Tenma corrected.

Shao blinked a few times. Did that mean... he wasn't one? Shao's dad used to brag about turning down an apprenticeship from an enchantress; he never believed him, but Old Man Riyu  _ did _ know more than most about the witches and wizards of Moonbridge. Specifically, they never corrected the common folk’s misconception that they were all-powerful demigods. In truth, they were just recluses who read too many books about fairies. In other words, they were bonafide human beings— at least they started that way.

That said, Tenma's words sent Shao's head spiraling. If he wasn’t human, then what the hell was he?

Shao laid his head on his hands and studied a mysterious stain on the ceiling. “Sooo, are you gonna be less of a prick now? Since he bit you, he must have eaten a bad dream or two.”

Tenma was silent for a long time. Shao didn’t expect a response; he was joking, after all. Instead he got lost in thought, and Tenma’s long white eyelashes. Closed. He must have fallen asleep.

But then…

“...I hope so,” Tenma whispered. So quiet. It wasn’t meant for Shao to hear.

He looked at the bottle of liquor beside Tenma’s spool of hair. Empty. Shao turned away from him. He hugged the enchanted sword to his chest like a pillow, drifting off to its soothing aura. Eventually, the exhaustion won. 

The floorboards shifted. Shao snored loudly, sprawled flat on his back, completely oblivious. The wizard sat on the edge of his bed. He contemplated him for a long time, studying his face the same way he studied a new character from the scrolls. He looked like that person; that's what drew him. Riyu's face had the same arches, prominent cheekbones, a sharp jaw.

But looking at him now, in the dim glow of the moon outside, he started to notice tiny differences. That other person's lips were defined, hard. Shao's were a little plump, and so soft. He kind of wanted to kiss them again to reassess. Shao's hair curled at the tips where it wasn't stuffed in an uneven excuse for a queue. Tenma reached out and touched it. Fluffy. Not the thin sleekness he was used to.

Shao's brow pinched as he swatted at the assailant. This new pose left his stomach exposed. Tenma looked. A thin layer of fat. But beneath that, abdominal muscles. Toned. Tenma poked one. Shao mumbled something about steak. The wizard caught himself smiling. A warning sign.

“Not good,” he whispered, stealing another stroke of Shao’s hair. “Not good at all.”

After that, Tenma returned to his bed, and a mercifully dreamless sleep.

That night, Shao was the one with nightmares. The boy he looked like, but didn’t know. Except this time, he was different. Older. Darker. There was a scar on his lip; it glowed, smoke leaking from it like an open wound in running water. A forked tongue slithered down his throat, choking him. 

His husky voice echoed through his skull. “ _ I’ll find you _ .”


	12. Gentleman Toad | Part 1

Shao let loose a yawn so big, he almost unhinged his jaw. He hated everything: walking, grass, birds, trees, pebbles, sunlight, but most of all that stupid sexy wizard munching on his never-ending supply of meat.

Three days, with no more than five hours of sleep between them. His contact with the dream eater left some nightmare residue in him. So every night plagued him with some kind of kinky shadow man. What’s worse, Tenma hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since then and Shao caught him whistling— _whistling_! He was smart enough to connect the dots.

They were traveling northeast along a trade route. He wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into the river to cool off. But he was so dead tired he worried he might drown. Instead, he dragged his knuckles through the dirt behind Tenma.

“What even _is_ that?” Shao asked the wizard.

Tenma glanced back at him, then at the jerky in his mouth. “Meat,” he said, mouth full.

Shao rolled his closed eyes. He was too tired for the usual back-and-forth.

Tenma ripped the one he was eating in half and held it over his shoulder; Shao gave into his curiosity and took it. He tried to place the taste but couldn’t. It was like chicken, beef, and pork all at once. Definitely burnt though. What was Tenma’s idea of cooking? Setting it on fire? Hopeless, but in Shao’s hands… The dishes he could make!

“Wahh!”

 _Crash_.

Frogs rained down around him. Frogs? He picked one up. It had three legs, one broken off, and a wide-open mouth. It was also hard, and stone, and fake.

The man he ran into lifted himself up, rubbing the rump he landed on. The giant basket strapped to his back dangled open; one of the ceramic frogs hung on for dear life. _Ah_ , concluded Shao. _A traveling trader. And I have successfully destroyed his merchandise_.

Shao bowed in apology. “Are you alright, sir? I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” He gathered up all the frogs he could find. Luckily, only the one was broken.

“It’s alright, young man,” the trader said, dusting himself off. “Just be more careful next time, okay?” The trader put the frogs back into his basket. When he saw the broken one, he frowned. “Oh dear. That’s bad luck.”

“Bad luck?” said Shao. “What do you mean?”

“Well that there’s the Great Money Toad. Place one at the entrance to your home and it will bless your family with riches. But a broken one….” The trader scratched his patchy beard and leaned in closed, as if someone was listening. “A terrible omen.”

Shao squinted at the toad’s lumpy face. There was more magic in that rock he tripped over than this thing. Safe to say his fortune was safe.

Shao tossed it at Tenma and reached for his copper string. “Here. Let me pay you for it, at least.” He handed over a few coppers; after all, it was his fault for thinking about food instead of where he was walking.

Tenma twisted the frog in his hand, focusing on the butt. “Where did you get these?”

“Oh, some mining village down the road.” The money was more than he expected; he was their best friend now. “They struck gold a couple decades ago. Say it’s thanks to their Master Haichan. Supposedly he protects the village in exchange for gold nuggets. That’s who the figures are supposed to look like.”

Shao lifted an eyebrow. “This ‘Haichan’ guy is a… frog?”

The trader shrugged and continued down the way they came. “I don’t know, sonny. Ask them!”

As soon as the trader was gone, Shao eyed the thing in Tenma’s palm. He put his finger in the open mouth; it was hollow inside, probably to hold a kid’s candy money or something. It had bright pink marbles for eyes and a big dumb smile curved around the opening.

“It won’t do shit for my family’s riches or anything,” he said, “but it’s pretty cute.”

Tenma snorted.

“ _What_?”

The wizard bit his lip, trying his best. “You have _no_ idea.”

Adaji’s white head popped out of his collar, ears perked up. Tenma held the frog up to his face. “Is the likeness accurate?” he asked the fox.

Adaji sniffed the figure, then craned his head to see the face. As soon as he did, he shut his big eyes, opening his mouth and—

“Hehehe.”

Laughed?

The nine-tailed fox leaped off of Tenma and scampered down the road, making that same strange laughing noise as he did. The wizard made no move to pursue; he was busy holding back his own giggles.

“Adaji!”

At a loss, Shao ran after the laughing fox. He followed the tiny pawprints off the road and down to a pond; that’s where he lost the trail. Tenma caught up with him almost immediately, without a drop of sweat on him. Meanwhile, Shao double over as his lungs gasped for air.

“He’s a spirit, remember?” Tenma said. “Not some animal. That’s what he wants you to think.”

“The hell does that mean?” Shao dropped to his knees and splashed his face with some water from the pond. When he lifted his head, his mouth hung open.

There, in the middle of the pond, was an island. But that wasn’t the jaw-dropping part. That would be the mound of gold on top of it.

Shao scanned the area frantically, looking for anything that could get him to his booty. A branch and a vine. Perfect. He shimmied up the tree and got to work.

“What are you doing?” Tenma asked from below.

“Claiming my family’s riches!” Shao tested the vine. It made an audible twang. Good enough.

“Wait.” The wizard’s eyes trailed over to the gold in the middle of the pond, then quickly back to Shao. “Don’t tell me you—”

“Here I come!”

 _Swing_. He released. Solid ground—he stuck his landing.

The pyramid of yellow cast a shining light on his face. Golden nuggets. Each as lustrous as the last. He could cry.

He hardly noticed Tenma make it across on a magic bridge of lily pads. “Wait. Riyu. You’re not going to touch those are y—”

Shao grabbed as many as he could, stuffing them in his pockets. When he ran out of pockets, he stuffed them in his pants. The wizard held his hand to his mouth and grimaced.

“What?” said Shao, a little annoyed. He picked up a few nuggets by the water’s edge, grumbling, “Excuse us peasants for not having the luxury of magic potions and infinite jerky. Oh!” An especially large hunk of gold tumbled from the pile into the water. He reached his hand in to grab it, but he grabbed something else entirely.

Slimy. Warty.

Shao looked past his hand to see a giant rock. No, not a rock. Rocks don’t have glowing red eyes.

A massive eight foot toad.


	13. Gentleman Toad | Part 2

The toad’s glowing eyes leered first at the tiny human hand on its snout, then at the other tiny human hand with a fistful of gold. _His_ gold.

“Whoa!” Shao stumbled back into Tenma’s arms. The entire pond erupted in rapids as the toad shifted, rising from beneath the water. It grappled the banks with its webbed feet. A single hind leg hoisted its enormous body out of the water; the earth rumbled.

The toad pinpointed the trespassers; the creature was so big it went cross-eyed. When it spotted Tenma, its mouth unhinged, and then—

“My queen!” bellowed the giant toad. “At last, my thirsty eyes can once again drink in your image! Have you changed your mind, my blossom? Realized that you could no longer be without your everlasting paramor?”

Shao forgot how to blink, he was so dumbstruck. _So… it doesn’t want to eat us_? He turned up at Tenma, still in his arms, and caught the end of a silvery eye-roll.

“Wrong person,” was all he said.

The amphibian halted the speech. “Hm? Not my Lady Yuli?” His mouth frowned cartoonishly.

An apple crunched behind them. “That would be her spawn,” said an unfamiliar voice. “YuYu still hates your guts. Sorry.”

Shao spun around to see the other person lounging on a boulder. It was a man—at least, he was pretty sure it was a man; his robes were so loose Shao could see his absence of a chest. There was some sort of headdress over his ears, like muffs or something. He reminded him of a discolored prostitute.

The stranger impaled an apple on one of his sharp nails and took a bite. He winked at Shao.

“Is that you, JiJi?!” the giant toad garbled. “And Little Jin as well! What an occasion!” He snapped his toes together, and a couple of sitting chairs materialized out of nowhere. The toad settled down on his hind leg, gesturing toward the seats. “Please, sit.”

Tenma sighed and took the one on the far end. Shao inspected the other. No rusty spikes. No weird bugs. A little algae-riddled, but it seemed safe.

“Thank you, Mister… um… Frog.”

The toad laughed and shook the island. “Haichan, formerly of Moonbridge Valley. And you are?”

Just as Shao was about to answer, Tenma shot him a death glare. “Shen... Ren… Nice to meet you.”

Shao almost made an audible shriek; as soon as he sat down, a pair of hands slithered along his shoulders.

Jiji had snuck over and nestled himself against Shao’s back. He almost knee-jerked for the sword, but that seemed a little rude. Instead, the Tenma death glares redirected.

Jiji gave off a magic whiff. Pine trees.

“So, Little Jin,” said the giant toad named Haichan, “how _is_ my radiant snowflake?”

Tenma did his version of a groan. “ _Please_ don’t call her that. She might hear you.” He stared at the setting sun through the trees. “Overbearing. As usual.”

Haichan gasped. The glow in his eyes sparked. “I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear that! To be loved unconditionally by Lady Yuli… I would give anything for that ecstasy! My lotus bloom… My midnight goddess… My voluptuous b—”

Tenma cleared his throat. “I’d like you to look at something.”

The toad tilted his head, curious. “An enchantment? I’m a little rusty, but I’ll do my best. Give it here.”

Shao and Tenma exchanged looks. Tenma nodded. Shao wrestled under Jiji’s suffocating back-hug to take out the sword.

Haichan took it in his webbed hand. It wouldn’t budge from its sheath, even when pulled on by a two-ton toad. He orbited the blade with his bulging red eye, making fascinated grunts and swoons. “Amazing!” he bellowed. “Where did you find this?”

“An abandoned house,” answered Shao. “Near the village of Somberset. A dream eater was living there.”

“A dream eater, you say? No wonder. I doubt any spirit could resist the pull of one of the Eight Warriors.”

Shao perked up. “No way! You mean the Eight Warriors from the legends? They’re real?” To say he was giddy would be an understatement. “My dad told me about them. They fought for Huadalga, right?”

Haichan chuckled. “Hoho, correct. Eight mortals chosen to protect the Four Kingdoms in the gods’ absence. And when they died, they left behind objects imbued with their souls.”

Shao’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me. That’s what the sword is?!”

Haichan nodded, shaking his warty jowls. “Shikasa was the one that settled near the village of Somberset. Your dream eater must have planted roots in his final resting place.”

Haichan handed the sword back to Shao. Stars twinkled in his eyes as he looked at it. When he was young, moving from place to place, sometimes he’d refuse to go to sleep until his father told him a story about the legendary Eight Warriors. He wanted to be just like them when he grew up. And now he had the sword of Shikasa! Badass, demon-slaying Shikasa! It wasn’t even his birthday!

Tenma’s eyes went blank as he recalled information. “According to Magister Yanju’s writings, the Eight Artifacts have unique abilities related to the Warriors they belonged to” said the wizard. “By that logic, what would Shikasa’s sword do?”

Haichan scratched his chin. “Shikasa… was a scholar. But a scholar with a wild streak. At night, he would often sneak out to hunt monsters. They say he could dispel evil energy as simply as cutting a weed.”

Shao nodded along. “Slicing off evil, huh? That makes sense....” He remembered the Baku-exploding beams—how they literally “cut” away the creature’s skin. “That’s how we beat the dream eater,” he said aloud.

Haichan froze; his only movements were his second eyelids blinking slowly. Jiji clicked his tongue right beside Shao’s ear.

“Shen, was it?” said Haichan. He stomped over to Shao, giant toad face towering over him, scanning. He felt his hot swamp breath on his face. “I forgot to mention: not just anybody can use the artifacts. It would kill you. That is, unless you’re….”

Shao gulped. Then—

_Flash! Smack! Thud!_

Haichan flew onto his back, rolling around like a boulder. Tenma stood on the other side of him, his light whip steaming. “ _Mine_ ,” he hissed.

Shao’s face went hot. He didn’t know what was more embarrassing: the spider hands inching toward his butt, or _that_.

Haichan popped up on his hind leg and licked the dirt off his head. “Alright! Alright! I understand! No more questions.”

“Good.” Tenma said, calm. The whip slipped back up his sleeve. He straightened his robes and cleared his throat, back in business mode. “As thanks for your help, I will break your curse.”

“No!” Haichan held up his webbed hands. “I don’t want that. You see—this was my last gift from Lady Yuli.” He bowed his head solemnly, thinking of the past. “A gentleman never throws away a gift from his lady.”

Tenma shook his head, clearly done with it all.  “Then at least find a better bathroom," he said. He pointed his finger in Shao and Jiji’s direction. "Idiots like him think it’s actual gold.”

Shao went blank. Tenma’s finger was pointed at him, and definitely not the weirdo hanging on his back. Haichan said nothing, only smiled mischievously with his warty toad lips.

The very last thing Shao wanted to do was check his pockets. But gods—he had to. He felt around for the “gold.” Then he screamed.

 

~~~~~

 

Fifteen minutes later, Shao was scrubbing his skin raw in the river. Tenma ate his meat under a tree nearby, turned away enough to give him a comfortable amount of privacy. He would never be clean, not even after burning his clothes and scraping his skin off. But the longer he spent in the cool water, the better he felt.

Shao glanced up at Tenma on the bank. He fixated on the two slices of bread around his jerky. “Huh. I guess you can make sandwiches too.”

Tenma’s silver head shifted. “What?”

“Nothing!” He brushed his fingers through his hair underwater, wondering idly where that nine-tailed fox got to. “I hope Adaji comes back soon. I need to pet something soft and cute….”

There was a pause. The wizard chuckled and said, “You are _precious_.”

Shao blushed and sank into the water. He heard a double meaning in there, even with Tenma’s usual dry tone. But he was too flustered to ask. After a while of gurgling in the water, he recovered.

“I had no idea you had a mom,” he said.

“Everyone has a mother; that’s how reproduction works.”

“Not what I meant, dumpling.” Shao splashed a wave of water at him. Wasn’t even close, but it felt good to do it anyway. “I meant… y’know, that she’s still around and stuff.” He kind of begrudged Tenma. The way he spoke about her—at least he had an overbearing mother to ignore. “Never knew mine….”

Tenma set down his food. Quietly he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Shao never thought he’d use the word “sincere” for his aloof partner before. But that was the only way to describe the dulcet tone of his voice. It almost gave him the creeps.

“Nah, it’s alright!” Shao slapped the water’s surface. The ripples lapped at the bank. “Your mom must be a major hottie! If she looks anything like you, anyway. I wanna meet her! Where does she live?”

Tenma’s eyebrow twitched at that first part. He jabbed a long finger at the night sky.

“Uh….” Shao didn’t understand. “The moon?”

“Yep.”

 _Yep_?

“Wait—what?!”

Shao yelped. Before he had time to ask anything else, another body appeared behind him. Jiji’s arms hooked around his shoulders. The blood drained from Shao’s face. He was _also_  naked. And close enough to feel it.

Jiji hummed a traditional tune while he tickled his sides. Shao guarded his chest, squirming. This only made the lecherous stranger hug tighter. Shao felt cool breath on his birthmark. His skin tingled as his muscles went lax.  _No! No no no, please!_

“Hehehe~”

 _Lick_.

" _Ahh_...!"

Something between a sigh and a moan leaked out of Shao's mouth. Invisible question marks hovered above Jiji and Tenma’s heads. Shao clamped his mouth shut, mortified. _I've really gotta do it, now. I've gotta kill them! They can't know my weakness. I'll kill them both and them myself!_

He elbowed Jiji in the neck. “Oi! Enough with the skinship already!”

“Aww, but Shao,” he said, unmoving, “I thought you wanted pets?”

Now there was a question mark over Shao’s head. “Wait a minute… How do you know my name?”

“Enough.” Finally, Tenma got up from the bank. With daggers in his eyes, he shouted, “Melon!”

_Pop!_

Shao’s magic detector pinged; the pressure on his back disappeared. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see “Jiji.” But instead, he saw a white fox. A very familiar white fox.

Adaji flashed him a mischievous grin. Then he licked the water off his nose.

“Hehehe!”

Shao blinked.

_Wait—what?!_

 


	14. Nostalgia's Dregs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last bits of this chapter might be a lil' creepy NSFW. Maybe? Ehhhhhh~~~~~

The sorcerer took a long beleaguered drag off of his pipe—a normal one this time. They followed the trail to a dumpy little town. Sunderset or something. It was dusk, when the widows were making their ways home to their empty nests. He leaned up against a shoe store, no doubt scaring away any potential customers with his new “pet.” The sneers he slung their way probably helped. 

As good as Zankai was at making zombies, none yet had been perfect. They were strong at first, able to toss two full-grown men through a window or bite through metal bars. But the decomposition eventually caught up to them, and not soon after they would turn to mush. Smelly mush. His methods had evolved, and he felt certain this one would last. But he decided to take precautions anyway.

Baxia—or Bobo as Zankai named him—loomed over him like an oversized, leather-bound shadow. The suit covered him from head-to-toe, with the only openings being holes for his pupilless eyes. A maze of belts etched with incantations sealed him in. Along with the smell. This combined with the muffled moaning served as an effective intimidation. He liked it that way.

Zankai stroked the lock of white hair at his belt which, until a couple days ago, had pointed in the direction of his quarry. Somewhere along the way, however, the talisman fell limp. Jin had gotten too far ahead of him.  _ No surprise, with those long crane legs of his _ . He puffed on his pipe.  _ Sexy crane legs, though _ .

“Ah… Here I am, caught up in nostalgia again,” he said aloud. 

Bobo tilted his head. “Urrrr…?”

Zankai continued his soliloquy. “What’s he doing with the emperor’s toys, I wonder? Jin never meddled. Unless….”

The beads at his belts clacked, interrupting his train of thought. The talisman reactivated. The lock of hair swished, then pointed left. Zankai’s cold heart shuddered. He glanced in that direction, only to be disappointed.

A little girl made her way down the street. Her eyes darted from side to side, suspicious. Every time an adult passed, she would sneak into some pot or crevice. The wizard raised one of his stumpy eyebrows. She couldn’t sneak past a blind old lady. Nevertheless, the talisman was pointed directly at her. She was connected to Jin—in some way.

Zankai put his pipe away and whistled to his pet. “Come along, Bobo. We’ve a young lady to see.”

He followed the little girl into the woods and down a winding trail. The closer they got to her destination, the harder the lock of hair pulled on his belt. Clearly, this little girl had come into contact with Tenma Jin. And wherever she was going had even more of him. Zankai licked his lips in anticipation.

They came upon an empty clearing. Or what looked like one. His tongue tingled. A camouflage barrier. Clever.

Zankai pricked his finger with his canine. As blood beaded the tip, he picked up a rock and drew a simple spell. “Catch, Bobo.” He tossed the rock backwards. The lumbering zombie clapped his hands around it. Zankai pointed. “Throw it at that tree.” He did.

The rock zoomed forward at top speed. The “clearing” rippled where it disappeared. Each one tore away the fake projection to reveal the musty old house behind it. A dim light leaked from the windows, as did the laughter of children. Two children.

Zankai crept silently to the window, peeking in.

“The soldier has to get to the palace to rescue the princess, but there’s an army of bad guys in the way. So he fights them!”

“By himself? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes it does! Come on, just build it!”

The two children huddled on the floor, assembling broken pieces of furniture into some kind of miniature city. At the front of a horde of acorns sat a toy horse with a pink flower on its butt. The little girl rearranged the same chair leg three times, never satisfied with where it went. The boy, on the other hand, put things in place with an architect’s precision. Zankai squinted at the miniature. Was that…? The Golden City? It was almost an exact replica, down to the secret tunnel entrances.

The talisman licked the side of the building, pointing straight at the boy. Zankai bit his itchy tongue. Sharp nails, scraggly grey hair, and ears… hairy, spoon-shaped ears. A dream eater. Of course.

Zankai kicked the door open. The little girl screamed and ran behind the boy. “How is it, after thousands of years disguising yourselves like us, you spirits can never seem to get the ears right?”

The sorcerer glared down at them. The dream eater glared right back. He puffed up, holding his arms out to protect her.

Zankai huffed. “What are you going to do? All that spiritual power: gonna gnaw on me?” He kicked the boy out of the way; he crashed into the toy palace with a thud. The wizard turned his back and got out his pipe. 

“Baku!”

“Grab her.”

Bobo broke a larger hole through the doorway. In the same step, he yanked the girl up by the scruff of her shirt. “Let me go!” she yelled, kicking and screaming.

Baku scrambled back up. He growled at Zankai’s back, claws out. “Let Jia go!”

Zankai lit his pipe. “No?” He easily plucked him up by his hair. “Cooperate. And I won’t have him break little Jia’s neck. Deal?”

“Please, don’t!” Suddenly, Baku’s black eyes flipped back into human ones. “Just don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything.”

“Haha,” Zankai laughed. “You will.”

_ Stab! _

Jia wailed.

The pipe plunged into Baku’s temple. His human face withered as the glamor evaporated. The human boy turned quickly back into its true form. Zankai only needed a couple seconds to suck out the dregs. When he was done, he tossed the swine-like body out the window like trash.

“I  _ said _ , let me  _ GO _ !”

Jia jabbed so high, she managed to kick Bobo in the face. He heard a crack as the zombie’s neck bent sideways. His grip loosened, and Jia wriggled out and onto the ground. She made a break for the window, shooting the wizard the meanest look she could manage. He couldn’t help but chuckle at that failure.

Zankai watched as the girl scooped up the wounded spirit and ran back home. He laughed, kneeling over the half-destroyed imperial city. He picked something up, turning it over in his hand. “She forgot her little steed.” He walked over and placed it on the windowsill. An easy enough place to spot.

As Bobo put his head back in place, Zankai plopped into the house’s last remaining chair. He popped a few special leaves in his pipe and blew out an opaque cloud; he traced a complicated mudra into the smoke, then on the pipe itself. The snake eyes on the bowl glowed, then released a glowing vein into the smoke. 

Images slowly appeared—the dream eater’s stolen nightmares. Most of them were useless. A few teeth falling out here, a few dead sons there. Those weren’t the ones he was looking for.

Then, he saw it. The moon reflected in the Pools of Divination. A zither with a broken string. That fucking wizard village. “ _ There _ it is.” The vision after that gave him pause. He squinted. It took him a second to realize. “Oh, sweet Jin… Still thinking about me, are you?” he said. He strummed the scar on his lip like a string on the zither. “Good.”

As he saw more of Moonbridge in the dreams, he realized. The talisman consistently pointed in one direction. The only place Tenma Jin could go, fugitive in hand, and remain safe and undetected.

Zankai smacked his head. What a fool he was. Where else would he go but back to mommy?

The still-flickering images in the cloud distracted him from this revelation. Flashes of skin. Hair entwined, black and silver. Long legs curled. Long, sexy, crane legs…

Strange that this would be Jin’s nightmare. Because it was the complete opposite for him. The thought of seeing him again, ten years later. Thinking about the things he could do, he  _ would _ do… it made him hard.

That flawless skin of his, bruised and scarred. Those listless eyes, choked with tears. That beautifully long neck, his hands around it, squeezing...

Zankai shifted in the chair. “Bobo,” he said, not looking at him. “Go outside. Don’t come back for twenty minutes.” 


	15. The Girl in Gauze | Part 1

Shao tossed a pebble at Tenma’s back, determined to make it into his collar. But, the closest he got was a whistle past his shoulder. A marksman, he was not.

It was midday. They walked along a path cut between two rice paddies. Adaji padded along in front of them, apparently privy to wherever the hell they were going; he stopped every few feet to sniff the ground. 

Shao was feeling antsy and Tenma was due for a fresh complaint; he’d break that dead-fish facade yet!

He threw another pebble. “What are you up too…? I’m suspicious,” he grumbled.

Tenma cast a spare-second glance over his shoulder. “Of?”

“I dunno….” The words came out of his mouth without him really thinking. But now that he said them, he couldn’t deny the small bud of distrust sewn in his chest. “It’s just… back when we first met, you seemed pretty gungho about getting at my spiritual whatever. But now that you have this supposedly unlimited power source, the most impressive thing you’ve done with it is track down a fat pig monster.”

Tenma’s lips pursed ever so slightly. “I’m not ‘up to’ anything.”

Shao stuck out his bottom lip and grumbled. “Really? No big cool spells? Not even an explosion?” He paused. “...Two explosions?”

Tenma huffed. “Detonations are novice-level.”

“No way! Does that mean I could do it?” Shao’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “Teach me!”

Tenma closed his eyes, irritated. “No.”

“But teaching magic is your job, isn’t it? It should be easy for you!”

“Yes. Still no.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

Adaji jumped onto Tenma’s shoulder, snickering. “Hehehe, stingy~!”

Shao pouted as he bent forward and rammed his head into the wizard’s back. “Then you’re smart! Cuz’ the first thing I’d do is light a fire under your ass right when you go take a dump.”

“The terror,” said Tenma dryly.

Just as Shao opened his mouth for another quip, the treeline splintered in front of them. A loud boom sent ripples across the paddies as fire roared on the path ahead of them. Shao caught Adaji as he fell off Tenma’s shoulder. Did that really just happen? An  _ explosion _ ?!

A body rolled off the burning ridge. Shao winced as it hit every rock and branch on the way down. The girl landed face-first on the road, legs twisted in the wrong direction. The way her neck was… there was no way it wasn’t broken. Shao’s knees shook as all the blood left his head. He’d seen a dead body only twice, and he fainted both times; now he was going for a third. 

But the girl got up. 

She stumbled forward a couple steps; her shin snapped like a twig. Shao cursed. He ran for it, just in time to catch her.

The teenaged girl looked up at him, her face covered in dirt and blood. He swallowed the overwhelming nausea. “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

Her ribs clacked together when she tried to talk. “Wh...re...un….”

Tenma came up behind him. He pulled on Shao’s tunic. “Riyu….” His light whip was already out.

The girl pushed pushed at his chest, her brown eyes pleading. She took the biggest breath she could manage...

“...Run…!”

There was a whistle, a thud. Her body went rigid. Shao felt a sting. He looked down and froze. Shocked.

An arrowhead protruding from her chest. Buried halfway in his abdomen. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Tenma cursed. He jumped in front of them, casting a mudra. A shimmering field burst forth from his hand, just in time to deflect two more arrows. A flurry of soldiers jumped from the forest: two archers, five swordsmen, and another magician. Adaji growled at the red flame their armor bore—that of Lord Takarai, ruler of the South. 

Shao could see none of this. Sparks blotted out his vision. All sensation left his body. All except for one.

The taste of human blood.


	16. The Girl in Gauze | Part 2

The first thing Shao was conscious of was a hammer of an angry man mercilessly assaulting his head. Well, the hammer and the man may not have been real, but the pounding headache drilling a two-inch hole into his unconsciousness certainly was.

He opened his eyes to a cloud of dust; spokes of sunshine poked through a splintered roof. His knuckles rubbed against a bed of straw. A barn? The lack of cow shit threw him off.

He called out without really thinking, “...Tenma?”

A girl scurried over to the sound of his voice. Pretty, if a little frazzled. Gauze covered her from head-to-toe. She wielded a wet cloth, looking for a forehead to dab.

Shao recognized her bright round face instantly. He pointed. “You!”

She jumped. “Me?”

“You’re the girl from before!”

“I am?”

“Uh, yeah. How could I forget a human shishkebab.” Shao looked; her back was sans one arrow. He blinked slowly at her. “Are you… okay?”

The girl covered the gauze around her neck. Her cheeks perked up into a smile. “Yep! I mean, I know it looks bad but don’t worry! I can’t feel anything!”

“....”

Shao sniffed. Definitely magic. Like medicine. The too-sweet, too-much kind. A curse?

A ball of fur pounced up onto the straw. “Don’t let that cute face fool you,” Adaji chirped. “You play a card game with her? Don’t. Bet. Anything.”

The girl giggled behind her cuff. “Don’t be a sore loser. You won a couple!”

“Yeah, two—out of a hundred.”

Shao took a deep breath before interrupting the buddies. “Miss?” he said. “I realize this atmosphere is toasty warm and all, but—who are you?”

“Oh, shoot! I forgot!” The girl sat down and straightened herself. Then she bowed her head as far as it would go. “Pleased to meet you! Thank you for saving me! My name is Nong Henge. ” Her eyes went wide. “Um, I messed the order up. That didn’t sound right. Darn it! Fooling myself in front of the fancy wizards….”

Shao waved his hands wildly. Anything to interrupt this self-lashing. “I’m not a —wait, what do you mean I saved you?”

“Oh, it was amazing!” Henge clapped her hands together; he could have sworn he saw stars burst from her eyes. “You ripped the arrow out of your tummy and beat the lord’s men with it! I mean, I was a little fuzzy at the time but what I  _ did _ see was super cool!”

“Huh.” Shao didn’t know what to say. “I remember an arrow in my tummy. Not much else.”

He glanced at Adaji, waiting for a sliver of supplemental information. His ears flattened on his head and his tails twitched nervously. All while looking away. Nope. Nothing.

“Oh.” Henge’s face went blank, like she didn’t know what to say either. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; you’ve been out with a fever for two days.”

Shao shot up from the pile of straw. “Two days?!  _ Ow ow ow! _ ” As soon as it left the bed of straw, a fiery pain lit up his left ass cheek. Deciding to worry about it later, he cupped his butt and looked around. “Where’s Tenma? Er—that guy with me. White hair. Pretty. Doesn’t talk much.”

Henge held her face in her hands and blushed. She knew exactly who he was talking about. How could she not?

She smirked and gave him a look. “You mean your husband~?”

The crater of pain on his moon burned a second before his face did. He snapped at Adaji, “You told her?!”

The fox stuck his snout up in the air. “What can I say? I like gossip.”

Shao huffed and gave him an especially aggressive pat. “Where are we, anyway?” he asked the girl.

Henge’s face lit up. “Here? This is my family’s stable! No horses anymore, though. I set them loose when the refugees came to eat ‘em.” 

“Horses? Really? Yeesh, if I ever get that desperate you got my permission to eat me first.”

“Don’t knock it, soft boy. Meat’s meat,” said Adaji.

“Wrong! So wrong!” Shao snapped, offended. “Get a better palette, furball!”

He turned back to Henge, who was giggling at the exchange. She couldn’t be much older than sixteen. It wasn’t common—a girl her age, alone. Not to mention the fact that an entire squad of Lord Takarai’s men were after her. Or her shishkebab curse.

“Henge,” Shao said slowly, “if this is their farm, where’s your family?”

The girl just smiled at him. No answer. He had an obnoxiously loud voice. There was no way she couldn’t have heard him. 

“You must be thirsty,” is what she settled on. She scooted to a kettle in the corner and boiled some water. “I can’t brew fancy magic tea, but I’d wager Grandpa’s special blend is just as good!”

A collection of herbs and empty vials littered the floor around the steaming pot, none of which Henge touched; some of them glowed. Wizard-y things. Tenma’s?

Shao rolled out of the straw, sore and rusty. He wandered around the barn until he found the white, slender figure in the corner; Tenma was leaned against the wall with his coat pulled over him like a blanket. Sleeping. Shao caught his heart going nuts. Why? He had no clue.

He squatted beside him. A strand of his hair was loose, hanging over his nose. Shao had the urge to tuck it behind his ear. His hand reached out.

Tenma grabbed it. “You’re awake,” he said. His grip softened on Shao’s wrist. His eyes opened, puffy and tired. He looked paler than usual.

“Have you slept at all?” said Shao. “You look like you pulled an all-nighter. Six times.”

Instead of answering, Tenma put his hand on Shao’s forehead. “The fever’s gone.”

“Yeah, so is the small army that attacked us.” Shao peeled him off. “Fill me in.”

Tenma stared at him. Shao could only guess what was going on in his head at any given time. But this particular face smacked of, “Oh, you don’t remember? Of course you don’t. Now you want me to tell you. With words. I hate that. I hate you.”

Finally, Tenma frowned—then closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

“You  _ bitch _ .”

The tiniest snort of laughter gave him away. Shao growled and leaned in, jabbing the finger of suspicion at him.

“Hey,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the state of my ass, would you?”

Tenma opened his eyes again, knowing.

“Tea’s ready!”

Henge came over, three cups on a plank of wood in her hands. She set it down and sat a comfortable distance away from them. The “try not to disturb the married couple who are in close proximity” distance.

Shao scooted away from him, back as straight as a board. “Listen—about before: the talking fox was just telling a joke. I’m a guy. We’re not like that.”

Henge hid the smirk behind her sleeve. “Master Tenma doesn’t look like he wants agree with you.”

Shao glanced at the wizard. What did she mean? He had the same blank stare as always. The, “I can’t believe I’m suffering the same space as you,” look.

“It’s not like that! We’re partners. We help people out with magic problems and stuff. Y’know, like a team?”

Henge sipped her tea. “If you say so.” Her unconvinced tone made him want to cry.

But something else distracted him. Another “smell.” But this one was different, unbelievably foul. Acrid. Stomach-boiling. And with each passing second it only intensified.

Shao couldn’t help but cover his nose. “Do you smell that?”

Tenma leaned forward, alert.

Henge gasped. “Oh no. It’s the tea, isn’t it? Too strong?”

Shao shook his head. “No no… Not that.” A shiver ran down his back. “It’s like… rotting meat.”

Tenma’s eyes shot open. “...What did you say?”

_ Bang! _

A heavy knock rocked the stable doors.

_ Bang! _

The latch locking them in place cracked.

_ Bang! _

Tenma looked at the four shadowy feet under the door crack. Whatever he saw struck him with terror; even Shao could tell. The magician grabbed him, his hands shaking.

“We need to hide,” he whispered.

Henge shot up, the fire of determination in her eyes. She stomped the ground to the beat of the door, searching. Quickly, she found it. A cellar door, hidden by straw.

“Down there!” she said, hushed.

Shao panicked. Seeing the unshakeable Master Tenma tremble like a child shook him. He held his hand. “Come on.”

He went down first, then Tenma, with Adaji hopping on his shoulder on the way down. Shao looked around at a wall of glinting metal. Swords, spears, bows. What was this place—a hidden armory?

_ BANG! _

Henge peeked down at them, her finger to her lips. Shao expected her to come down as well. 

Then she winked and closed the door.


	17. The Girl in Gauze | Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the last couple paragraphs are a little body horror-y

The last bang shattered the door open. Silence at first. Then footsteps—heavy and thunderous. The squeak of leather followed it.

“What do you want?” Henge said. “Hey! You broke my door, you know!”

The second pair of footsteps took their time. They crunched purposefully on the splinters. “It was locked,” said a slithery voice.

The sound of it made Tenma convulse so much, Shao had to hold him up.

“Do you do that a lot, mister?” said Henge in a chastising mother tone. “Break into other people’s homes because the door’s locked?”

“You live here?” The stranger laughed. “Are you a horse?”

The voice overwhelmed Shao with a strange sense of deja vu. He’d heard it before. He just couldn’t remember where.

The other person—the one that smelled so rotten—didn’t move from the corner. The lighter footsteps came closer, right on top of them. Right next to Henge.

“Say,” he said, “do I know you from somewhere? You look disgustingly familiar.”

“Maybe,” Henge said, betraying no hint of fear. “Cousin Lon always said I had one of those faces, though. The ones that look like you’ve seen before but haven’t.”

“Mm. Funny. I used to get that too.”

“I may be a fool, mister. But this fool has a hard time believing that.” She turned her head. “Your friend over there’s a little shy. He’s not one of those lepers I’ve heard about, is he?”

“Ha! He wishes.” The floorboards above them creaked. Shao’s heart stopped in the deafening silence that followed it. But the man continued on as if he hadn’t heard it. “I _have_ been here before. There was a poor couple of farmers, a crotchety old man with an eyepatch… and a sickly little brat….”

Silence, then a licking sound.

Henge shoved him away. “You…!”

“Of course!” he mused. “Wow. You’re looking much better. I guess he granted their wish after all.”

A small flame. A burning smell. He exhaled.

Henge was mad. “What…? Who are you?”

“Aw, you don’t remember me? That’s rude. You drank my blood.”

A plume of smoke leaked down through the floorboards. Black smoke. Tenma covered Shao’s mouth with a magic cloth. He put his face just close enough to share it.

“But enough about you. I couldn’t care less,” the stranger continued. “I’m looking for someone, you see. A dangerous criminal. Wanted by the emperor himself.” He paused for a reaction. “He has accomplice too. A wizard with white hair.”

Tenma’s jaw tightened. By then, the cellar was thick with the smoke, stinging Shao’s eyes. He didn’t notice it at first, but the cloth was shrinking. Eaten away by the insidious cloud.

The girl was unshakeable. “Ain’t nobody like that around here, mister,” Henge said. “The only criminal I’ve seen is the door-breaking kind.”

“Ha!”

 _What are you doing?!_ Shao was manic—terrified—but part of him wanted Henge to just spill it. What did this sixteen-year-old girl owe them? All she had to do was tell him where they were. Why was she lying herself into a hole in the ground?

The stranger paced around her again. He stopped in a specific spot.

“Three teacups,” he said. “Two too many, wouldn’t you say?”

Henge came right back. “I never said I was alone. I ain’t a fancy wizard like you, mister. These fields don’t plow themselves.”

Their stare-down was so intense, Shao could almost feel it. Enough time had passed for the stranger to get impatient; he clicked his tongue.

“My mistake.” The man walked toward the exit, bored. “Oh, one more thing,” he said, turning back. “That blood you took from me—it was stolen. Not by you, to be fair. But to have such a gross little peasant girl walking around with it….”

Finally, the rancid figure in the corner moved. What came next was a horrifying sound: like a ripe jackfruit being squished by a rock. The bones snapped against the floorboards. Something wet and black dripped through the cracks, right on to Tenma’s cheek.

 _No!_ Shao went for the door. Exposing him to the smoke for two seconds— long enough to make him collapse. Tenma caught him. His ear pressed against his chest, Shao could hear his dizzying heartbeat.

It wasn’t a lot of noise. But it was noise.

The stranger circled back, inspecting the source. That’s when he started to kick on the floorboards. Each knock louder than the last. Tenma squeezed, hugging Shao for dear life.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_KNOCK._

Suddenly, the cries of horses and the clashing of swords drowned it out. The stranger clicked his tongue again. “Come along, Bobo. Before the toy soldiers crash the party.”

To Shao’s disbelief, the unpleasantness of dealing with another gross little peasant was enough to make him walk away. The footsteps trailed off outside onto the crunch of gravel, until eventually they faded to nothing.

Shao let a few more minutes pass before he wrenched away from Tenma. He held his breath, ripped Shikasa out of its sheath and clambered up the ladder into the barn. He heaved himself out of the cellar, only to fall right back on his ass.

“Fuck…,” he muttered, trembling.

Her body was splashed on the ground, barely retaining its form. Her back was positioned toward the ceiling, but so were her knees and face. He couldn’t look at it anymore than that without fainting, but he was pretty sure he saw an eyeball. Dangling.

After a few moments, he heard a pop. Convinced the intruder was back, he turned his sword on the doorway. But it was empty. 

The first thing to move were her arms. They gripped the floor, then bent.

_ Crack! _

She pushed herself up in a jerky, jittery motion as her muscles fought what surely should have been impossible. Her head lolled to the side, the eyeball swinging around outside its socket. Her knees curled, and the rest of her body lurched onto them—upright. 

Her hands gripped her side, and to the tune of a million little cracks and pops, she rotated her torso. Once  _ that _ was back to the right position, she grabbed her head and swung it around.

_ Snap! _

Her head clicked into place. Henge massaged her neck and shook the emotion back into her dead face. Seeing Shao, she smiled.

“Heng-mm…!” Shao covered his mouth with his forearm, trying desperately to hold his poor little stomach together. “Henge,” he said. “You forgot something.”

The girl in gauze tilted her head, and the eyeball bounced on her cheek. “Oh! Oops,” she said. 

Then she popped it back in. And that was that.


End file.
